The Littlest Lupin
by MissandMarauder
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures, and when Remus Lupin finds himself at his last galleon, he turns to his very last option and becomes a sperm donor. Little does he know, he will soon father our favourite little know-it-all, Hermione Granger. Cover art by Fine Mournings.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Remus Lupin sat on the park bench in some little suburb in London he didn't even care to know the name of at the moment. It was far enough away from the local wizarding communities that he wasn't likely to run into anyone who might recognize him, and that was all that mattered. He flipped through the newspapers in his lap - from both the Muggle and wizarding worlds - focusing on the sections that listed job openings. A brisk wind fluttered the papers, and he tried to hold back the shiver that clawed its way through his threadbare clothes and down his underfed, wiry frame.

Money was tight. Way too tight. He'd only been out of Hogwarts a matter of months, and he was already struggling to figure out how he was going to make ends meet. He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes, fighting the exhaustion that plagued him in the days following the full moon and trying to force his eyes to focus on the words in front of him. He needed sleep almost as badly as he needed a job, but that would have to wait.

Snagging the cup of coffee up from the bench seat beside him, Remus took a long swallow of the bitter stuff; he much preferred tea but needed the extra boost this morning for his job hunt. It was going poorly enough without him falling asleep mid-search.

He had already applied and been turned down at almost all the businesses that were hiring from the "Help Wanted" pages of the Prophet, so he turned to a Muggle paper. Even though his mum was a Muggle, he knew he didn't have a lot of the skills and knowledge necessary for many of the jobs offered in the columns of tidy print. This didn't leave him with a lot of options, but as he literally had no idea where his next meal was coming from - not to mention the fact that rent needed to be paid in the next few days or Sirius would insist on covering Remus' half of the rent for the flat they shared. He would do just about anything at this point.

His eyes trailed down the huge list of jobs, and he circled one here and there with a pen he'd picked up at a Muggle bookstore he'd worked at up until the full moon. As usual, the owner had been thrilled with his work ethic and the fact that he was quick to pick up all the necessary tasks and knowledge associated with the job. However, he was also upset, and for good reason, when Remus had begged for the days after the full moon off. He didn't have other staff who were able to cover the shifts, so Remus had simply not shown up. When he went back in on the third day after the full moon, recovered enough to get back to work, the shop owner had grumpily told him to remove his arse from the premises, "Or else."

Since the werewolf knew he couldn't exactly give his old boss the reasons for his absence, he gave a frustrated sigh and left. He had picked up the coffee and newspapers that now littered his lap and the bench beside him, apparating to a random Muggle suburb he'd visited once with Sirius while chasing some tail a month or two before. Sometimes it was just easier to be away from people who seemed to look at him and know his past, his "disease," and everything that went with them.

Only half paying attention by that point in his search, Remus finally stopped on a small ad that always graced the last page - perhaps because people would be most likely to take it seriously after desperately, and fruitlessly, searching all of the previous pages.

Sperm Donors Wanted

If you are a young, healthy man who

needs to make a little extra money,

consider becoming a sperm donor.

Help a family struggling with infertility

make their dream of having a baby

come true. Apply at our clinic today!

A London address followed, and Remus couldn't believe that he was actually at such a low point that he was considering visiting the little clinic.

When he had first seen the ad, he had taken it upon himself to do some research. It turned out Muggles couldn't be infected with lycanthropy. They would die if bitten, not become infected. And he had even stumbled onto one account of a couple that was made up of a werewolf and a Muggle. They had successfully had a batch of magical children without any odd side-effects. There was much more of a stigma and air of concern over the idea of werewolves procreating with witches, though Remus had yet to come across an actual story of a werewolf turning his spouse or siring werewolves instead of infant witches and wizards. Most of the literature about werewolves was similarly vague and fear-inducing, which annoyed Remus to no end.

When he finished his research, he came to the conclusion that he could probably father children (or donate sperm) if the woman involved was a Muggle. He probably shouldn't if she were a witch. Or he should at least do a little more research first. Since the clinic in question was definitely a Muggle one, he felt like it was probably safe.

Standing up before his conscience and common sense could talk him down from the ledge that was this harebrained idea, he tossed his coffee and The Daily Prophet before Disapparating.

XxxX

A few days later, Remus stared at the magazine on the coffee table in front of him. He was glad that the process for being screened and having his blood tests done had been relatively short. He should be able to finish up today and have enough money to cover the rest of rent and groceries for a little while. He thought to himself that it was kind of sad that money was all he could think about with such erotic magazines in front of him.

He was awkwardly perched on the vinyl-covered leather chair that would have been ridiculously comfortable had it not been covered in the clear plastic and who knows how many men's bodily fluids. Though he did not consider himself a prude or someone who was easily grossed out, he could not bring himself to settle back into the cushions. There was a Muggle television, like the one Lily had brought along when she moved in with James after they all graduated from Hogwarts earlier that year.

Why on earth am I thinking about Lily while I try to do this? Remus berated himself. This was hard enough without thinking about a girl who was basically his sister. The magazines weren't helping much either, since he kept on finding himself expecting them to move like the Playwizard copies Sirius kept hidden around Hogwarts in the past and now stashed all over the flat they shared.

Remus had been enough of an outcast in school that most of his sexual experience was with...himself. That somehow didn't make this any easier, but he eventually flicked on the television and was able to get the job done.

He left his sample on the table, as the nurse had instructed, and made his way out of that extremely awkward room and back toward the doctor's office that he'd been in earlier, brushing past a couple that somehow managed to look discouraged but still hopeful. The woman had curly brown hair and green eyes. The man was balding a little and average in every way - medium brown hair, brown eyes, average height and build. Remus gave them a small smile before he went into his doctor's office and shut the door. Just a little bit longer and he'd have money in hand and be able to pretend like this day had never happened.

XxxX

"Pads! I'm home."

Sirius Black's rakishly handsome (his words, not Remus') face turned to face Remus as he made his way into their flat later that day.

"Moony! Don't you look chipper! I take it the job search went better this time?" Sirius knew Remus usually struggled to hold down a job for more than a month or two and assumed something must be up when he didn't come home before dinner like he usually did after a shift at the bookshop.

Remus couldn't hold back the blush that tinged his ears and cheeks, but he was able to busy himself with putting away his scarf and jacket and avoid Sirius' prying gaze for just long enough before heading into the kitchen. He slapped his part of the rent on the counter before he pulled a tiny bag of groceries from his pocket, returned it to its usual size, and started to put things away.

Both men were aware that Remus hadn't answered the question, but Sirius decided that it had been so long since he'd seen his best friend in such a good mood that he decided not to push it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Helen and Richard Granger sat across from Dr Stephens and tried to brace themselves for whatever news he might be about to give them. Helen reminded herself, _Adoption is always an option if this doesn't work out, right?_

Richard's thoughts weren't quite as positive. _I bet the problem's with me. It has to be me._

Despite their trembling hands and racing thoughts, they presented a united front. Dr Stephens cleared his throat and gave them their test results in a soothing voice. "Mrs Granger," he said, using the title they had agreed on to avoid the confusion of calling both Grangers 'Dr Granger', "all of your tests came back looking great. We found no reason that you shouldn't be able to carry a healthy baby to term." He liked to start with the good news first; it seemed to soften the blow when bad news was coming next. "Mr Granger, your tests brought up a few concerns. It appears that there may be a genetic abnormality on your side that is causing your issues with infertility and Mrs Granger's repeated miscarriages."

Richard Granger's face went blank aside from the furrow in his brow. His wife knew him well enough to know that he was upset but trying to be strong for her. She gave his hand a quick squeeze and turned back to hear the rest of the doctor's explanation.

"With this in mind, there are a few options. Obviously, you can keep trying and hope for the best. It is still possible that you will be able to conceive a healthy child. It just isn't as probable as I'd like. The next option would be to pick a sperm donor. Our clinic has a fairly extensive sperm bank and list of donors you can choose from, if you would like to go that route. Adoption would be the other option, though you would need to go through the proper channels for that. Our receptionist can give you a few pamphlets to look over with a few of the local adoption agencies' information."

Richard was still stuck on the fact that he was to blame for the years of heartache and loss that had plagued their otherwise wonderful marriage. Helen was quicker in her thinking and was already analyzing the options. A sperm donor didn't sound so bad. They had their choice from a pretty extensive list, from the sound of things, and it would be nice to be able to pick someone just right - physically, mentally, and otherwise.

Helen squeezed Richard's hand again, hoping to draw him out of his thoughts, while she turned to the doctor. "Would it be alright if we had a moment to ourselves? This is rather a lot to process."

Dr Stephens smiled and nodded gently before quietly leaving the room.

Helen turned to her husband, torn between giving him her two bits on what would be the best course of action and giving him more time to process all that they'd been told. He reached up to scratch at his receding hairline and opened his mouth as if to speak, letting out a sigh before turning to face Helen in the chair next to him.

"I'm so sorry, love," he choked out. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and Helen's heart broke for the man who had been with her through everything and had his hopes and dreams shattered just as many times. "I knew it; this is all my fault. All this time…" he trailed off, his emotions becoming too much to bear.

Helen scooted her chair closer and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Look at me, Rich," she commanded. "Blame doesn't do any good in a situation like this. If the problem had been with me, I am absolutely certain you would not have begrudged me our lost little angels and all the heartache that has come with years of trying. And I am just as sure that you would not have allowed me to wallow in self-pity. It's time to move forward - finally have the baby we've always dreamed of! It doesn't much matter to me how we do it. Either way, she'll be ours. And she'll be perfect."

"She, eh?" Richard said, sniffling a laugh. His watery smile warmed Helen's heart. They were going to be okay.

XxxX

Before they knew it, the Grangers found themselves back at the fertility clinic. The paperwork had gone quickly and easily, once they'd decided to go the sperm donor route. It had definitely been a blow to Richard's pride, but he was more than willing to do whatever it took to give Helen the baby they both wanted more than anything. At least this way it would still be Helen's baby, in the genetic sense. Richard had only had eyes for her since they had first met, and he hoped their baby looked like her.

Choosing a donor had been a bit of a process, but the hours of reading through sperm donor profiles had paid off when they stumbled on the man who seemed to be the perfect candidate for becoming their child's biological father. He was a self-proclaimed bookworm, introvert, and honors student. He didn't care much for sports, " _or other nonsense,"_ Helen had noted with a smile. No picture had been included with his file, but the description of sandy brown hair, green eyes, slim frame, and above-average height sounded nice.

All in all, he was exactly what the Grangers were looking for.

With that decision behind them, they only had to track Helen's cycle and set up a date for insemination. It seemed that the week of Christmas would be bringing them the best gift they could imagine in the form of an insemination appointment and bright hopes for a pregnancy that would finally stick.

So there they sat, waiting to be taken back into the exam room for the big moment. Richard kept going back and forth between making horrible jokes, " _How many men does it take to make Baby Granger? Three!"_ and quietly holding Helen's hand, leg bouncing nervously.

Finally, a nurse came and put him out of his misery, calling out, "Mr and Mrs Granger?"

The couple stood, and Helen squeezed her husband's hand as they followed the nurse to their room. The exam table held a hospital gown and a folded sheet.

"Go ahead and put the gown on and drape the sheet over your lap," the nurse said. "Dr Stephens will be in shortly."

Richard sat in the chair closest to the exam table, whistling quietly in admiration as his wife quickly removed her clothes and placed them on the empty seat. She donned the faded, pink hospital gown and turned to let her husband help her with the tie in the back, holding her hair out of the way for him. He pulled her in for one last kiss before she climbed up onto the table to wait.

After a few moments of charged silence, Dr Stephens knocked quietly and let himself in.

"Who's ready to make a baby?" he said, smiling at the couple.

They laughed nervously, and Helen whispered, "Heaven knows we are."

The doctor nodded in understanding and went about his work, explaining the procedure before he began. The Grangers held on tightly to each other, their clasped hands like a lifeline.

Before they knew it, the procedure was over. The doctor instructed Helen to rest for a bit before they left and wished them luck.

Two weeks later, the Grangers celebrated a positive pregnancy test and broke out their list of baby names. Helen was still certain they were going to have a girl.

She wanted to name her Hermione.

A/N: THANK YOU for all the follows, favorites, and reviews. I am so sorry this update has been so long in coming. Having a baby puts a bit of a kink in one's writing schedule. ;) I hope to get updates up much more regularly now that we're getting back on a semi-predictable schedule. Let me know what you think...and what you'd like to see happen with this little story! My lovely beta, Synoir, helped me map out the main points for the rest of the fic, but I want to hear what you would like to read!

Also, it has come to my attention that fertility clinics in the UK do things differently than they do in the US. I was so excited about this plunny when I started the story that I didn't even think about that. SO. I apologize that some of the ins and outs of that are going to be inaccurate. Hopefully you can still enjoy the story! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Nine months of pregnancy seemed to fly by for the Grangers. Helen's pregnancy progressed utterly normally: three months or so of all-day "morning" sickness led to a too-short, glowy second trimester and extremely uncomfortable third trimester that summer. Every moment seemed beautiful in a way only pregnancy can, though, and Helen reminded herself that the aches and pains would be worth it.

One morning in mid-September found the Grangers enjoying a quiet morning at home. They had decided to take a few weeks off from their dental practice to finish preparations for their little bundle of joy's arrival and enjoy the newborn stage together before Richard went back to work. Helen planned on taking at least a couple months of maternity leave.

Helen stood at the sink, washing the breakfast dishes, while Richard took care of a few bills at the kitchen table. They worked quietly, leaving the other to his or her work, until Helen realised the shuffling of papers behind her had stopped. She turned to look over her shoulder, flipping her obnoxious curls out of her face as she did so.

Richard was staring at her with a look of pure adoration. When she raised her eyebrows in question, he stood from the table and slowly made his way over, coming to stand behind her and wrapping his arms around to rest on Helen's belly. She relaxed into his embrace, enjoying his touch and the stubborn kicks their baby was unleashing against her father's palms.

"Have I told you lately how absolutely beautiful you are, love?" Richard asked.

Helen smiled and turned her head again to kiss his cheek. "I don't think I could ever get tired of hearing it, in case you want to say it again."

He chuckled softly, nuzzling his nose into the riotous curls at the nape of her neck. He planted a gentle kiss there before resting his chin on her shoulder once more.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Growing our baby agrees with you," he added, rubbing one hand softly against her pronounced bump.

"Even with cankles and insane cravings at three in the morning?" Helen clarified.

Richard burst out laughing, unable to hold back his surprise at her comments. "Absolutely. There's something kind of magical about it all. And I'll happily continue to scour London in the wee hours of the morning for whatever your heart desires. You're the one doing the hard work here." His smile turned to a look of disgust, and he continued, "Just don't make me watch you eat next time you want chips dipped in ice cream."

Instead of laughing or saying anything in response, Helen stood very still.

Richard instantly grew concerned.

"Everything all right?"

"I think my water just broke," she whispered, staring down at her soaked pyjama bottoms before glancing nervously back at Richard. "Are you ready to have a baby?"

Richard couldn't help it. He whooped as he leapt from the room, grabbing the hospital bag, keys, and a few other necessities.

He popped his head back into the kitchen a minute later, a stupid grin on his face.

"Am I ever."

XxxX

Hermione Jean Granger was the most beautiful baby Richard had ever seen. Of course, as an only child married to another only child, he hadn't been around a lot of babies. But still... She was born with dark eyes and just a smattering of sandy hair. It tried to curl at the back of her head, and Helen bemoaned the fact that her daughter would very likely be stuck with a head full of messy curls, just like her mother. Richard rather liked his wife's wild hair, so he just smiled and humoured her.

If they thought time went fast when Helen was pregnant, it seemed to go even faster after Hermione's birth. Her wide, brown eyes eagerly took in the world around her. She would fuss on occasion, but a lullaby from her mum or reading books with her dad almost always helped her calm down. Developmental milestones seemed to exist just to be brilliantly surpassed by the bright-eyed babe. She seemed to do everything just a bit before (and better) than her tiny peers at the Mommy and Me class Helen and Hermione attended each week.

All in all, life was pretty much perfect.

It was so good, in fact, that Helen occasionally wished she could think the tall, book smart stranger with sandy brown hair and green eyes for the gift of their daughter. She wasn't really sure how to go about it, though, and kept on putting off the nagging feeling to write a thank you card or _something._

Helen found plenty of other things to distract her with a brilliant, busy baby in the house. One thing that took up a lot of her brain's rather large worrying space was the growing number of strange things that happened around Hermione. When she started to sit up on her own - and got stuck upright - she would throw her toys and books onto the floor next to her cot. That, in and of itself, seemed normal. But when her parents came into the room after hearing her toys hit the floor, only to see that every single one was still in the cot with Hermione...things seemed less normal.

It became a bit of an obsession with her parents to figure out what their daughter was up to during her nap and bedtime escapades. Late one night during the summer of 1980, Richard woke up to use the loo. On his way back to bed, he heard the usual sounds of throwing coming from Hermione's room. He quietly crept down the hall, careful keeping to one side to avoid the creaky board that sounded off if you walked down the middle of the hallway.

The sound of toys hitting the floor continued as Richard inched the door open. His jaw dropped at the sight that met him.

Hermione was sitting up in her cot, quietly jabbering to herself and throwing books and toys through the wooden slats onto the floor. As soon as each object hit the floor, however, it zoomed into the air, over the cot railing, and into Hermione's outstretched hands. She looked extremely pleased with herself when each toy returned to her with ease.

Richard contemplated the possibility that he was hallucinating, dreaming, or imagining what was happening before his very eyes, but it seemed quite real. Just in case, he tiptoed back down the hall to quietly wake Helen.

"Rich?" she muttered groggily. "What's wrong?"

"Come on. I think you should see this," he said.

Blinking sleepily, she shuffled into her slippers, fastening her robe as she followed her husband back to the doorway of their daughter's room.

"It's like…" Helen trailed off, unsure what to say next.

"Magic," Richard finished the thought decisively.

Helen's eyes shot to Richard's profile, and she noticed the same surprise, awe, and disbelief in his features that she was feeling herself. Yet, as she turned back towards their daughter, she couldn't argue. Something strange was going on with their daughter, but it didn't seem to be anything sinister.

" _Magic_ ," she whispered back.

A/N: Big thanks to my beta, Synoir. You are wonderful, and this story is so much better with your help!

Also, thank you all for your reviews, favorites, and follows! This little story reached 100 followers over the weekend, and it just made my day to see that so many of you are enjoying this fun little fic of mine. :) The next chapter is already halfway finished, so I hope to have it up by the end of the week! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

After the Grangers' initial discovery of Hermione's magical abilities, the rate at which the odd bursts of magic occurred grew exponentially. Finally, after Hermione had sent a pile of her favourite picture books sailing through the house in the middle of her second birthday party. Her grandmother, oblivious to the toddler's unique abilities, had made the mistake of asking Hermione if she'd like to read a few books together after she opened her gifts. Hermione obviously did, and her books quickly made their way down the stairs to the living room.

Everyone, except for Helen and Richard, had flown into a state of panic as the books landed in a neat pile on the coffee table. Hermione glanced around, pleased with herself but curious as to why all the adults were behaving so strangely.

Moments later, the front door burst open. The Grangers' various friends and family members were all trying to talk over each other, so none of them noticed the robed strangers who marched into the room, waving wooden sticks around and muttering things under their breath.

Helen and Richard, however, had stayed calm during the upheaval. They stood, holding Hermione between them like two parental shields, and gawked at the two men in dark red robes as they went about their work. The yelling quickly subsided as the partygoers slowly sat down, as if floating to the ground, and falling asleep. The Grangers couldn't help but be afraid of whatever was going on, but they were also curious about these men and their connection to Hermione's powers.

Their questions were soon answered.

"Dr and Dr Granger, I presume?" the taller man asked. His auburn hair clashed horribly with the deep red of his robes, and Helen found herself stifling a laugh when her thoughts got stuck on that fact in the midst of such a worrisome situation.

Richard was paying better attention to the man's words and nodded, saying, "Yes, sir. And you are?"

The other man, a shorter bloke with blond hair, came up to shake Richard's hand. "I'm Kentworthy, and this is my partner, Vance. We are here to investigate a case of underage magic."

Helen's brain was still a bit caught up on how ridiculous Vance looked in that shade of red, but she shook her head a bit to bring her attention back to the conversation at hand. The first thing that popped out of her mouth was, "Why hasn't anyone come before?"

Kentworthy turned to her and inclined his head. "Bouts of accidental magic are common for young witches and wizards, ma'am. When family members are the only ones who see them happen, and no one is in danger, we usually let it slide." He paused and gestured to the room of slumbering guests. "We can't have this many Muggles finding out about magic, though, I'm afraid."

Helen nodded, her curiosity somewhat appeased.

The other bloke, Vance, added, "We understand that you probably have a lot of questions since this is the first recorded visit you've had from the magical community. We will be putting you in contact with the proper authorities to help you with that." He flicked his finger to point at himself and his partner then said, "We're just Obliviators. Our job is to change the memories of everyone else here to keep your daughter, and the rest of the wizarding world, safe."

Helen and Richard were both shocked speechless at the revelations that the men's nonchalant little speeches had brought to light. They stood silently as the men went around the room, removing the incident from the minds of all their sleeping friends and family members. When they were finished with their work, they both gave a brief nod and let themselves out the front door.

The lock clicked shut behind them, of its own accord.

As the deadbolt clicked into place, the party sprang back to life. Everyone was back on their feet and chatting as if nothing had happened. Helen and Richard continued to stand in the back of the room, near the window, staring at the front door.

XxxX

Later that same day, Minerva McGonagall, a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, came to visit. She answered every question the Grangers threw at her - and they had put together quite a list. It calmed them to be reassured that Hermione was happy, healthy, and normal in her very own special way.

They knew that things would likely not be easy for their daughter in what the Scottish witch called "the Muggle world." It broke their hearts a little bit to realise that magic was one thing they would never be able to share with their daughter or truly understand, but they vowed to support her and help her prepare for her future in the wizarding world.

The Grangers' talk with McGonagall sparked a renewed desire in Helen's heart to contact the sperm donor who was Hermione's biological father. She had a niggling feeling that he was the reason Hermione was a witch, though she kept her suspicions to herself. She didn't want to get anyone in trouble, and Richard seemed oblivious to her thoughts, too enthralled with all he was learning about magic.

She didn't waste much time in writing a letter and convincing the clinic to contact their donor. It wasn't common practice, but they decided to allow it if the communication stayed strictly anonymous.

The letter was off before they knew it, and Helen hoped that her thanks would be well-received.

XxxX

Remus bit back a groan when the owl headed right towards him, swooping down to drop a letter into his outstretched hand. It was gone as fast as it had come, anxious to get away from the predatory vibes that fairly radiated off the pack. Remus only had enough time to read the words penned on the front and back of the envelope before a clawed hand tore it from his grasp. The front had held a return address from a suburb of Muggle London that seemed vaguely familiar, but there was no name. The back was covered in Sirius' tidy scrawl, a byproduct of his despised Pureblood upbringing that wouldn't go away, despite his best efforts.

 _M-_

 _This came by Muggle post. Not sure what it is, but I thought I'd best send it on in case it's important. Take care of yourself._

 _-P_

The note had been benign enough, Remus was relieved to see. It shouldn't raise the alpha's suspicions. The envelope's contents might be another matter. Greyback turned the letter over in his hands, reading both sides before slicing it open with one clawed finger. He pulled out the sheet of lined paper within, flicking it open with a twitch of his wrist. His eyes scanned down the letter at a crawl, a manic smile curving his lips enough to show the sharp teeth hidden within. That couldn't be good.

When Greyback had finished reading the letter, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it in Remus' direction.

"Seems you have a pup out there in the big, bad world, Lupin," he said with a dark chuckle.

Remus' stomach dropped to his toes. His eyes went wide as the alpha added, "Maybe we should pay her a visit. The pack could use some new blood."

Moony came to the front of his mind, taking control long enough growl at the other werewolf's implications. He thought the words, _Over. My. Dead. Body_ , but he didn't let them slip past his lips. Instead, he attempted to derail the alpha's plans as quickly as possible.

"London is huge. There's no way we would ever find...the baby…"

Greyback's grin went positively feral. "That's where you're wrong, Remus," he said. "I am _very_ good at finding things. I found you, didn't I?"

With that, he turned and made his way back towards the fire where a group of wolves sat. They were far away enough that Remus couldn't hear what was said, but he could see Greyback round up a couple of pack members before casting a warning glance in Remus' direction and apparating away.

Panic flared through the younger werewolf's veins, and Moony's instincts screamed to run and protect his 'pup.'" Resisting the urge, he paused to reach down and grab the crumpled letter the alpha had thrown at him before. He smoothed the pages of thin, lined paper with shaking fingers and took in the words as quickly as his scattered thoughts would allow.

 _Dear Sir,_

 _I'm afraid I don't really know how to begin this letter, but I have thought long and hard about sending it and feel it is the right thing to do. I have wondered how I might thank you for over two years now, and I find that the only answer that keeps coming back to me is to put the words in writing. This way we may both stay anonymous while allowing me to express my heartfelt gratitude._

 _This is starting to look like rambling, so I will get to the point. You have given us the greatest gift we have ever received. I don't know the circumstances surrounding your donation at the fertility clinic, but we have a beautiful baby girl thanks to you, and I would be remiss if I did not at least try to say thank you. Thank you for our beautiful baby girl. She is everything we'd ever dreamed of and more. Her presence has brought a hint of magic to our lives that was missing before._

 _Thank you._

Remus' hands shook even harder as he read the short missive again. And a third time. " _A hint of magic…"_

"What have I done?"

It hadn't even occurred to Remus that he would possibly be fathering a "Muggle-born" with his donation. He had been so focused on his lack of funds and the knowledge that he wouldn't pass on his _Lycanthropy_ that he had been a complete dunce and forgotten to factor in _magic_.

He didn't have time to worry about such things, unfortunately. Greyback and the others were already on their way to find his... _daughter_...and destroy her life the way Greyback had destroyed Remus' own.

The full moon was only an hour or two away.

Remus felt sick.

He had to find her.

With a flick of his wand, he twisted on his heel and disapparated, appearing a couple blocks away from the fertility clinic he'd visited years before. He walked the remaining distance quickly, trying not to look as panicked as he felt. The wolf was just below the surface this close to the full moon, and Remus struggled to keep control of his instincts as he rounded the corner of the clinic and carefully peered through the windows, trying to suss out the situation.

He wanted to run. Fight. Hide. Do something other than keep his head and figure this out.

The sight that met his eyes made his empty stomach clench.

The office had been ransacked. Files were strewn everywhere. Two men lay dead, sprawled at awkward angles across the floor. They looked like guards sent by the security company after Greyback and his minions had come searching, setting off the clinic's alarms.

Remus choked down the bile that sought to rise in his throat, tearing his eyes away from the empty gazes of the corpses to continue looking for whatever Greyback had found. Luckily (and _how_ he could think anything about this situation was lucky was beyond him), Greyback wasn't as brilliant as he was cruel, and the pertinent file lay face up on the nearest filing cabinet. Remus' name was tidily printed across the edge of the file, and the contents held the names, address, and details for Dr and Dr Granger, and their young daughter, Hermione.

He turned on the spot, hoping he wasn't too late.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews! They make the muse happy, which means more chapters for you all. ;) As always, thanks to my fantastic beta, Synoir. She rocks my socks. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The Grangers' house was full of werewolves, and they didn't even know.

They strove to get to bed at a reasonable time. That way they could wake up early and enjoy their mornings together before they dropped Hermione off at the sitter's and went to work.

This meant that everyone was in bed when Greyback and the others arrived in the Grangers' tiny, fenced backyard. He instructed the others to go back to the pack, more interested in turning one little girl than risking the exposure of the magical community and his packmates.

He'd been doing this for years - picking a specimen to turn and putting himself in their vicinity just before the moon rose. It was his own little game, and it had long been his favorite way to punish those he felt had wronged him. Greyback's desire for revenge against Remus' father was the reason the younger Lupin had been targeted.

Now he would punish Remus for the way he despised the gift Greyback had given him all those years ago.

He stalked silently through the house, reveling in the heightened senses that allowed him to see clearly in the dark. The alpha could already feel his eyes glowing amber, a sign of his impending transformation.

He found the girl's room just as he heard a pop of apparition from outside.

It didn't matter. He could already feel the tingling pull of the full moon urging his body to transform.

Greyback took pleasure in the change. Unlike Remus, who was just down the stairs suffering his own transformation, he loved the power and raw brutality that his wolf form afforded him. He pushed into the agony, urging bones to break and reform, fur to grow, and teeth and claws to emerge. The pain was over quickly enough, and his steel-grey muzzle fairly grinned as he pounced on his young prey, relishing the coppery tang of her blood.

Remus, for the first time in his life, didn't fight the change.

He willed it to go faster, struggling towards the stairs, first on two feet, then four. When the last bone snapped into place, Remus, as Moony, raced up the stairs as fast as his large, wiry wolf body would carry him. He was being driven almost mad with the need to protect his pup, his child. The screams of a young toddler rang through the house, and Moony shot into the room with the open door.

Greyback had gotten a few good bites in before Moony's arrival, and the alpha turned to snarl at Moony with bloodied teeth. Under normal circumstances, Moony would never challenge an alpha.

Apparently, these weren't normal circumstances.

The sandy brown wolf leapt through the doorway, barrelling into the larger alpha wolf's chest and sending them both crashing to the floor. He was instantly back on his feet, putting himself between Greyback and his pup. The power of his desire to protect the crying toddler in the nearby cot thrummed through his veins, and he gnashed his teeth, unwilling to bare his neck and submit to the alpha as he normally would. Bounding forward, he bit, kicked, and clawed at the silver-grey wolf, maiming in every way he could, until they were both out the door and tumbling down the stairs. They were both on their feet in a flash, circling each other on the landing.

Greyback must have seen the murder in Moony's eyes because he decided it wasn't worth the fight and ran off through the open front door.

Moony felt torn between protecting his pup and needing to go after her attacker, his own alpha, but he eventually followed Greyback out the door and down the street into the night.

XxxX

Remus wanted to die.

He had struggled with self-esteem his entire life, but he had never felt as worthless as he did upon waking the next morning.

His daughter, who he only remembered as a tiny, screaming, wounded person with lots of curly hair, was going to be a werewolf. The one thing that he wouldn't wish on anyone had been thrust upon his daughter.

Because of _him_.

Greyback had continued to run and fight with him throughout the night, and the alpha had risen that morning in great spirits. He may not have snagged the girl for the pack, but he had succeeded in turning her. Apparently, that was enough.

He even ignored Moony's transgressions of the night before; he was nearly giddy over his petty revenge on the younger wolf over Remus' desire to be anything but the werewolf he was.

Remus choked on the remorse and bile building in his throat. He had to do something to help. Try to make this right.

He waited only until Greyback and a few others left to raid a local town for supplies. Knowing he was risking his mission for the Order - _again_ \- he turned on the spot and was gone.

XxxX

"Sirius?" the hoarse, familiar voice called through the flat.

The wizard in question tumbled out of his bed, leaving the thoroughly-shagged bird in his bed to sleep off their activities of the previous night. He shut the door and made his way into the living room, a concerned frown marring his features.

"Moony?" Sirius asked as the werewolf came into sight. Remus was covered in new claw and bite marks, something that usually didn't happen when he was with the rest of the Marauders or a werewolf pack during the full moon. Sirius' frown turned into a scowl as he whispered, "Who did this to you?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer before changing his mind, changing the subject instead. "It doesn't matter. I have so much to tell you, and you're going to hate that I kept a secret from you, and I don't have time for your dramatics," he finally snapped with an angry slash of his hands. He strode to the couch and sat, immediately putting his head in his hands. After a pause, he muttered, "I need help."

Sirius, shocked speechless for the first time in as long as Remus could remember, took a moment to let both of them breathe before quietly asking, "What's wrong, Moony? You know I'll always help any way I can." He waited another minute before adding, "Talk to me."

Lifting his head from his hands, Remus swallowed thickly. He almost felt like having this conversation would cement the events of the past 24 hours as if they were all just a horribly bad dream until the moment he spoke the words.

Clearing his throat, he finally allowed the words to spill out of him. "I have a daughter, Pads."

Sirius squawked, and Remus held up a hand to silence him before Remus lost the nerve to continue. "Not with anyone we know. When money was really tight a couple years back, I ended up becoming a sperm donor," at this, his cheeks flushed, making his acute embarrassment clear. "I didn't know until yesterday that anything had come of it, but the family who used my...erm...donation...wrote me a letter to say 'thank you.' That was the Muggle letter you sent on to me."

The Animagus' eyes brightened with understanding, widening in anticipation of what Remus was about to say next.

"I've been with Greyback's pack since I left on this mission for the Order."

Remus could tell his friend had something to say about that, based on the look of righteous indignation on Sirius' face, so he quickly continued, "No, Pads. It's not up for discussion. This was the best way for me to help the Order, and I'm happy to do it. Well, I was - " he stopped abruptly, the weight of what he was about to say crashing down on him once again.

Pushing forward, willing himself to finish the conversation so he could get Sirius' help with the situation, he said, "Greyback read the letter. He hates how I feel about being a werewolf, and he is always giving me a hard time about it." He huffed a humourless laugh. "Guess he thought it would be funny to turn my only child into one, too. Sick bastard," he added under his breath.

"You mean…?" Sirius breathed the question.

Remus nodded, measuring the distance to the bathroom out of the corner of his eye in case he needed to be sick. "He turned her. Last night."

"Shit." Sirius wasn't known for his eloquence in difficult situations.

"Yeah." Remus didn't know what to say now that his confession was out. _Help_ , he reminded himself. He needed help.

"She's being raised as a Muggle, Sirius. They won't know what to do." His eyes were getting misty, remembering his own childhood full of his mother's love, his father's regret, and his own painful transformations in the cellar of their family home.

He returned his head to his trembling hands. "What have I done?"

Sirius came to sit next to him on the couch. "This is my fault. If I hadn't sent that letter…"

Remus scoffed. "How could you have known it was anything more than a bill or answer to an old job application?" He looked up to glare at the ceiling, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "It was probably the only piece of mail that could possibly have come from the Muggle world that Greyback would have cared about. He always reads our mail, but usually, it's just a short note from you lot, so it doesn't mean anything to him."

The look on Sirius' face made it clear that he still blamed himself for what had happened. He knew he wouldn't win a game of self-loathing against his best friend, however, so he went back to the original subject. "You said you need help. What can I do?"

* * *

A/N: You guys absolutely made my week with all your amazing reviews! This little story is almost up to 100 reviews and 200 followers, and I'm just floored by the response! Hopefully you'll forgive me for last chapter's cliffhanger now that you know what happens. Don't hate me for making baby Hermione a werewolf. It's all for the good of the story, I promise. I am so freaking excited about where it's headed! Some people have expressed concerns about where this story is going or what the pairings will be. I have the plot planned out through the end of the war, and both Remus and Hermione will have relationships. :) I don't really want to give away who their love interests are just yet, though. ;)

A big plate of virtual beta brownies for Synoir and Mahawna. Love these two!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sirius loved Muggle London.

The music, the smoking, the motorcycles - okay, he hadn't _actually_ seen any motorcycles that day, but it was the middle of October, and Muggles didn't have the help of magic to keep them safe and dry in England's dreary fall weather.

He knocked on the door of the house that Remus had told him to visit, hoping the Grangers wouldn't think he was insane for everything he was about to tell them.

The door opened slowly, revealing a haggard woman with red-rimmed eyes. Sirius' gaze was momentarily drawn to the scene behind her. He wasn't surprised to see the team of Aurors inspecting the house and cleaning up the damage that Remus and Greyback had caused the night before.

"H-hello," the woman ( _Mrs Granger_ , he reminded himself) said, seeming unsure of herself. Sirius was glad he had worn his Auror robes. She would be that much more likely to trust him now that she had already spoken with a few.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm here to help with the investigation and...help answer any questions you may have. About the future." _Damn_ , Sirius thought. _That was the stupidest and vaguest way I possibly could have said that._ He gave a tight smile, hoping that his good intentions would get him through this uncomfortable situation. For Remus' - and his daughter's - sake.

Understanding lit Mrs Granger's eyes as she glanced down at Sirius' robes. She stepped back from the doorway and gestured for him to come in.

Sirius nodded his thanks, waving a silent greeting to his friends from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were a few other faces he thought he recognised from the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures.

Frank Longbottom, a fellow Auror, came over to speak in low tones. "We're about done here. Why did Moody send you over?"

"Work was slow, and with everyone else out on assignment, I think he just wanted me out of his hair," Sirius admitted, hoping the invented excuse wouldn't come back to bite him in the arse.

Luckily, Frank just nodded with a quiet snort. "You and Moody stuck in the bullpen alone together is usually a bad idea."

Sirius nodded. "He also sent me with a few more forms he wanted me to go over with the parents. You guys can go when you're done. I'll head back when we've gone over everything."

His friend nodded and turned to round up the other Aurors. With a few words of apology for the inconvenience and a quick farewell, they were off, the DCRMC crew just a few steps behind them.

Finally, Sirius stood, the lone wizard in the eerily quiet room, unsure where to begin.

The tension in the air was broken by the sound of a little voice saying, "Funny hair, Daddy."

Sirius turned towards the speaker with a raised eyebrow, sweeping said hair over one shoulder. His eyes met the warm brown gaze of a little girl, probably not much older than his godson, Harry. She wore a simple blue dress and had bandages wrapped around one arm and leg, but she seemed better off than Sirius had expected, based on Remus' description of Greyback's attack.

Still, she must be one tough little person. Just like her dad.

"Mini-Moony." The name came out as the barest whisper, unbidden, from his tongue. The name struck a painful chord in his chest, but he had never had much self-restraint when it came to nicknames.

He made his way over to the toddler, crouching down to be at eye-level with her where she sat perched on her father's lap. "Hi, there. You have rather funny hair, yourself."

Hermione giggled, forcing a smile to quirk one side of the Marauder's mouth. "Just like Mum. Daddy says cwazy _and_ pwetty." She held out a hand, and Sirius gingerly took it, wary of further hurting the bandage-wrapped extremity. "Nice meet you," she declared.

"It's lovely to meet you, as well," Sirius replied. He was surprised by her manners and found her childish, but obviously intelligent, way of speaking rather adorable. "I'm here to talk to you a bit about what happened last night," he explained.

She nodded silently, her smile dimming. Sirius felt bad for dampening the mood, but he knew this conversation was one they needed to have.

He decided to start out with a question. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Scary doggies," Hermione whispered. She held out her injured arm. "Big one bite me." Tilting her head to the side, she considered her next statement. "'Nother one keep me safe."

Sirius blew out a breath, gladder than words could say that Remus had been able to stop Greyback from hurting the girl any more than he had. He glanced up to meet Mr Granger's gaze before continuing, "Those scary doggies are called werewolves."

Richard nodded and said, "Those other blokes said as much."

Sirius thought they might have. "Did they explain what will be happening on full moons from now on?" he asked. After a single nod from the girl's father, he continued, turning to look at the toddler once again, "When werewolves bite, the person they bite also becomes a werewolf."

Hermione's big brown eyes were glued to his face, but she said nothing. He pushed on, changing his direction a bit. "My best mate is a werewolf." Both parents gasped a bit at this, but their daughter just cocked her head, as if urging him to continue. "He was bitten when he wasn't much older than you, actually. Now, when the moon is extra big and full, he turns into a werewolf, like the ones you saw."

The parents looked more alarmed than ever, and Sirius felt the need to explain, "He stays far away from people when he turns into the wolf, so they stay safe." _Usually_ , he added to himself. "When he was little, like you, he stayed in the cellar for the night. We need to figure out a place for you to stay so you and your folks can stay safe, all right?"

Crazy curls bounced up and down as she nodded emphatically. "I need keep Mum and Daddy safe." Her lips turned down into the saddest frown Sirius had ever seen. "Don't want be scary doggy...werewoof."

Sirius saw the tears starting to pool in her eyes and tried to cheer her up. "It can be a fun thing, too! You will be able to hear and see better than you used to." He leant close as if to impart some great secret. "You might even hear your mum and dad when they try to talk about secrets, like birthday presents or where they hide to biscuit jar."

Hermione couldn't help the watery smile that spread across her face. "I do magic, too," she informed him.

As if to prove her point, a biscuit suddenly floated in from the kitchen and landed on the nearby coffee table.

Sirius barked a laugh, surprised by the girl's display of early, wandless magic. "Maybe you will have to use your new powers for something else then, eh? You'll be strong and fast, too. And when you are resting after the full moon your folks will give you all the chocolate you want."

The Grangers both made choking noises, alarmed by the thought of their daughter consuming more than the barest minimum amount of candy. Werewolf lifestyle was starting to sound like one big, cavity-infested black hole. A dentist's nightmare!

The Auror lowered his brows in confusion at their reaction, explaining, "The chocolate helps with the effects of the transformation. She'll probably need it leading up to the transformation and afterwards." He continued speaking to the parents, not sure how much the other Ministry employees had told them. "Her emotions will be closer to the surface in the days before the full moon, and she'll become more aggressive. She'll learn to control it, but you need to be prepared for that. Her eating habits will probably change, since she'll need more meat in her diet, and chocolate will help with her symptoms."

Mrs Granger cleared her throat. "Is...is it contagious?"

Sirius shook his head. "Lycanthropy can only be spread when in werewolf form. You'll be just fine as long as she has somewhere safe to stay...by herself...during the full moon."

Nodding, Helen said, "We were thinking of taking her to our cabin. It's on a good sized piece of land, and the previous owners had horses, so there is a barn not far from the house." She twisted her hands anxiously, clearly uncomfortable with the subject but pushing forward anyway. "Do you think that would work?"

Sirius nodded, relieved that they had already worked up a solution. "That should be just fine for the near future. As she gets bigger, you will eventually need to find a place that has stone or metal walls." He paused and offered, "If you'd like, I can add some extra protective spells to the property to make sure she stays put and you all stay safe. I can also come help with her first transformation, just to make sure things go smoothly."

Richard's brows furrowed in confusion. "I thought you said no one could be with her during the full moon."

Realising his mistake too late, he decided to let the Muggles in on his furry little secret. "Well, that's only for humans. You know how I said I have a friend who's a werewolf?" At their nods he continued, "When we were in school, my friends and I decided to learn how to turn into animals so we could help him with his transformations. Having a pack around helps keep the wolf calm."

Helen and Richard both sported the same shocked look. After an awkward silence, Helen asked, "You can turn into an animal?"

Sirius nodded and decided to just show them. With a lopsided grin and a twist of magic, he grinned up at the tiny Muggle-born as an enormous black dog.

Hermione laughed and looked to her parents for permission before scratching the dog's head. He rumbled his approval of the attention before taking a step back and returning to his human form.

"Nice doggy! Keep me safe?" the toddler asked.

"I would like that very much. Let's make sure your parents are okay with it first, yeah?"

The parents looked wary of accepting help from a stranger, but they felt desperate enough to welcome any help they could get for their daughter in this situation, so they gave the Animagus instructions for how to find the property. He assured them that he would have the wards ready to go before the next full moon and told them to expect him that evening to accompany Hermione into the barn for the transformation.

When Sirius felt they'd made sufficient preparations, he lost his friendly smile and told them a bit about the ongoing war and the possibility that he might not be able to show up for the full moon, but he would be there if he could. They looked even more afraid of the magical world after that, and he felt bad for adding another dose of worry to their already difficult day.

Hoping to end the visit on a more positive note, Sirius said, "Don't think less of her because of her...condition. My best mate is bloody brilliant, but he has always felt like there's something wrong with him. Don't let her beat herself up or anything. Lycanthropy is an unfortunate illness, but it shouldn't keep her from going after what she wants in life. Falling in love. Being who she wants to be."

Hoping that his sorry excuse for a speech had gotten through to them, he smiled and made his goodbyes. As he walked away from the Granger home and toward a nearby park to apparate back to work, he thought about the tiny girl with the ' _cwazy and pwetty'_ hair, hoping the future would be kinder to her than it had been to Remus and so many others who shared his condition.

He missed full moons with Remus and the other Marauders now that Remus was off doing spy work for Dumbledore with a real pack. It would be fun to have an excuse to run around as Padfoot again.

Little did he know that the full moon he'd be spending with Mini-Moony would be his last one as a free man for the next twelve years.

* * *

A/N: Guys! You put this story over 100 reviews with the last chapter! (142 as of the moment I'm about to post this update.) I'm just blown away by all the love and encouragement you've given me about this story. I am so excited about where it's headed, and I am glad you all are, too. I know there was a bit of a wait for this chapter, but I'm in the midst of moving and a whole bunch of other "real life" nonsense, so thank you for your patience. :) I hope the fact that this was a slightly longer chapter (for me) makes up for the wait. For the guest reviewers who have asked about an update schedule, I can promise that I have zero intention of quitting this story, and I post updates as soon as they've been beta-ed. (Shout out once again to my Synoir and Mahawna for helping me polish this up for you guys. They rock, and you should go read their stories. And while I'm rambling about stories, you should go read Bewitch, Ensnare by Kittenshift17 and Twice Claimed by Worthfull1 while you wait for updates over here. They have been updating daily, and they are both SO good!) Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing! It means the world to me. :) -M


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

December 1981

Remus was sick of crying.

He'd endured some pretty horrific things in his relatively short time so far on earth, but this was a whole new level of hell.

He had tried for weeks to visit Sirius, send him a letter or package, and get him out of the soul-sucking pit that was Azkaban. Every attempt had brought excuses from the guards, ranging from " _Prisoners serving a life sentence are kept in total isolation - no exceptions"_ to " _Your kind is not welcome here."_

Remus didn't know what to make of that. What did they mean, " _his kind"_? Werewolf? Halfblood? Gryffindor? Ridiculously poor person? The only person not destroyed in a situation of friend-turned-foe?

Who was he kidding? He was absolutely destroyed. He had never cried so much in his life. James and Lily, the two most meant-to-be people he'd ever met, were gone forever, leaving their son, who would likely never remember them, to grow up Merlin knows where… He'd had words with Dumbledore often on the subject, but the crazy old man had seemed so certain that Sirius was the villain in the situation and that sending Harry far away from the last two people in the world who loved him was somehow for the best.

Sirius was in Azkaban, not even allowed the common decency of a trial, treated like a monster Remus knew the Animagus was incapable of being.

Peter was dead...or so the Ministry said. Maybe he was. But Remus' gut told him that the story the Aurors told was far from the truth. Perhaps Sirius had killed Peter (and a street full of Muggles in the crossfire), but Remus fully believed his best mate would never do so without a damn good reason.

More likely, Peter had gone and acted like the rat he was. Remus and Sirius had both noticed the distinct smell of fear on their friend as the war escalated. Wormtail had stopped coming around as often, claiming that his mother's health had taken a turn for the worse and taking protection in their old family home. They'd chalked up his fear to his usual cowardice in the face of danger since they were all scared in the midst of war and losing the people they cared about most.

But now Remus wasn't so sure.

He would have trusted James and Sirius with his life, but he never got to that level of confidence in Peter's reliability. Wormtail had been the little tag along in school, gravitating to the other three Marauders like a moth to flame, and he had kind of become their best friend simply out of necessity and proximity. They'd had fun during their years at Hogwarts, playing pranks, making fun of James' obsession with Lily, and generally just trying to have as much of a good time as they could in an ancient, magical castle with a head of house as strict as McGonagall.

Remus rolled over in bed, feeling the pressure of the mattress and rasp of his sheets against his bony frame. He had always been skinny, but his body now looked emaciated. He drank enough water to keep the tears coming and ate enough to survive, but he wasn't quite sure why he bothered.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.

He wanted to live for exactly three people: Sirius, Harry, and Hermione.

His life had been reduced to caring about less than a handful of people, and he was banned from seeing any of them. Banned from seeing Sirius by the prison guards, from seeing Harry by Dumbledore and whatever caretakers he had seen fit to land Harry with, and from seeing Hermione simply because her parents had no idea who he was, and they would not welcome a visit from the girl's biological father, the reason she was magical _and_ had been turned into a werewolf before she could even speak properly.

 _Sirius had been smiling broadly when Remus had left the pack again to see how the Animagus' visit with the Grangers had gone. Apparently, the man was rather smitten with the tiny witch, and he happily relayed their encounter and the full moon he'd spent with her at her family's cabin in the woods._

" _It was just like old times, Moony," he'd happily sighed. "Well, sort of. She was much smaller, and of course, I missed you and Prongs and Wormtail, but it was fun to feel young again and play the full moon away." His expression had tightened into a teasing grimace as he added, "She didn't bite me all night like you did when you were getting used to having friends for your transformations, though."_

 _Remus had punched his shoulder at that and replied, "Moony must have taught you to stop being a git so the little wolf didn't have to deal with perky Padfoot. Now you're just an old dog playing babysitter to a tiny pup."_

 _Ignoring the jibe, Sirius corrected, "Mini-Moony. Her name is Mini-Moony now. She's part of the pack."_

 _The werewolf sat and stared at his friend, slack-jawed and filled with such a large amount of warmth and affection for his best mate, and the tiny daughter he barely knew, that it threatened to spill over in the form of happy, grateful tears._

More tears came at the memory, and Remus threw himself from his bed and into the shower. When he stood in front of the mirror with an obnoxiously fluffy towel (from a set Sirius had bought when they got the flat together) wrapped around his bony hips, he just stared at his reflection for a long moment.

Bloodshot, green eyes and a blotchy face stared back at him. He couldn't remember the last time he looked so miserable, and, with his history, that was saying a lot.

Turning back to his bedroom, he dragged on trousers and a jumper before heading to the kitchen to make some tea and eat his weight in chocolate.

As he sat at the two-bit kitchen table, staring out at the empty living room, he whispered, "Happy Christmas," before burying his face in his hands and losing himself to the tears again.

XxxX

Life over the next nine years dragged for Remus as much as they flew for Hermione. When he was finally able to drag himself out of his flat, he couldn't bear the looks of pity old friends and even acquaintances from Hogwarts sent his way, knowing that he was the last man standing from the infamous foursome that had caused so much trouble together during their years at school. He was able to garner enough sympathy and pity to be hired for the occasional odd job in the wizarding community. Between those jobs and temp work in the Muggle world, he was somehow able to make ends meet.

When he was finally evicted from the flat he'd shared with Sirius, he returned to his childhood home. It was filled with such an uncomfortable mix of warm and devastating memories that he had hoped to never go back. His mother and father had both passed away during his time at Hogwarts, Lyall from what appeared to be a simple heart attack and Hope from a broken heart soon after. He'd gone home for their funerals and to set his home to rights as much as he could, but he hadn't found any good reasons to go back until he'd shown up to his apartment one day to find it warded against him.

 _Stupid magical landlords,_ he'd thought to himself, rubbing his shocked hand against his thigh to ease the stinging.

Living at Lupin Cottage again wasn't so bad, though. It was lonely, but it was still much better than life with Greyback's pack had been.

He tried not to hate Dumbledore for sending him out there to waste away his friends' last months of life and freedom. Maybe if anything had come of his "spying" things would be different. Instead, a baby had defeated the Dark Lord, and Remus was so very alone. Dumbledore was the only person in the world who seemed to still care about him, aside from McGonagall and maybe a few werewolves who hadn't been part of his life since he'd left the pack.

And Sirius. But Remus tried not to think of his best friend after the Ministry sent him a cease and desist letter and Dumbledore kindly told him to move on for the hundredth time.

His time alone, combined with his lycanthropy and depression, aged him prematurely. He let the lone mirror in the cottage washroom grow misty with dust and time. His miserable reflection was not necessary; he knew exactly how exhausted, scarred, and old he looked.

When he was alone in the dark of his living room with a fire burning low and an entire bottle of firewhiskey in his stomach, he would let himself laugh about it. His life had peaked in happiness before he'd even had two decades under his belt.

 _Well,_ he figured, _at least things can't get worse._

* * *

A/N: My readers are the best. Seriously. I have received so many amazing reviews (over 200 now!) and PMs about this story, and I just want to say a big thank you! I couldn't do it without you guys. :) Thank you, also, to Synoir, my fantastic beta. Updates wouldn't come nearly as often without her help, and they'd have lots more mistakes. ;)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 _Summer 1991_

Hermione Jean Granger couldn't remember the last time she was so excited. After school had finished for the summer, she quickly ran home and flopped onto her parents' bed where her mum was folding laundry.

"I'm done!" she shouted, punching her fists into the air. Her hair flew wildly about her face, mirroring her obvious excitement. "My very last year of Muggle school is done! I can finally stop pretending to be normal."

Helen giggled at her daughter's dramatics. As her eleventh birthday, and first year at Hogwarts, approached, Hermione had been more and more eager to read every book, pamphlet, and scrap of parchment that carried any pertinent information about Great Britain's wizarding school. The excitement of being able to finally learn about and use magic (legally...and on purpose) fueled many late nights of reading by torchlight under her covers when she probably should have been asleep. As usual, she consumed every bit of knowledge that was available to her.

Even with all of that information stowed away in the tidy files of her brain, she anxiously awaited the day when her Hogwarts acceptance letter would arrive. As a Muggleborn, she couldn't help feeling a bit nervous that something might go wrong and her letter would fall through the cracks amidst endless stacks of school forms. But when those fears would overwhelm her excitement, she would remind herself that Minerva McGonagall - in all her prim, tartan-clad glory - was the Deputy Headmistress of Hermione's dream school. That usually helped ease her worries.

When it didn't, her thoughts roamed to scarier topics. What would she do during the full moons at school? What would happen when she didn't have the possibility of escaping to her parents' cabin in the middle of nowhere to wait out her transformations in the old barn?

Her questions were only partially answered a few weeks later when an old, disgruntled owl dropped off a rather thick letter with the Hogwarts seal stamped onto the back. Hermione's hands shook as she tried to soak in the moment, feeling like her life was about to change forever.

Helen and Richard watched from their spots on the couch as Hermione stared in what looked like terrified awe at the letter in her lap. They glanced at each other before urging her on.

"Open her up, love! You already know what it's going to say," Richard prodded.

Helen piped up, "Read it aloud! It's not every day the daughter of two boring, old dentists gets a letter like that." She softened their teasing with a grin, and Hermione smiled in return, feeling a little better.

Hermione carefully slid her fingers beneath the flap to break the seal and pulled out the folded parchment. She scanned the heading, reminding herself to memorise all of the Headmaster's various titles and honours before the end of the summer, thinking, _What on earth is a Mugwump_? and read aloud.

 _"Dear Ms Granger,_

 _"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _"Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July."_

She immediately flipped to the second, much larger piece of parchment, muttering, "It's from Professor McGonagall, of course." Her nose wrinkled at the description of wizarding clothing, but she knew what to expect after all her research about the magical world. She scanned down the list, and her eyes lit up as they found the rather large list of books she would need to purchase.

"So when can we go to Diagon Alley? I need to get these books as soon as possible so I can start getting ready for my classes." She tried to hold in the thrilled little bounce that wanted to come out and failed. Helen and Richard chuckled at the sight of their daughter, who suddenly reminded them all too much of her toddler self, bouncing out of her seat at the prospect of a new stack of books to devour. She looked chagrined at their response and added, "Clothes and supplies, too. And a wand, of course."

As she was folding the letter up to put it back in its envelope, a small note fell out from behind the larger pages. This one was also from McGonagall, but it was brief.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _Please see me after your arrival at Hogwarts to set up an appointment to discuss the arrangements the school has set up for the full moon._

 _Professor McGonagall_

A little bit of the happy grin that had been trying to take over her face slipped away at the ever-present reminder of the part of her that was hiding just beneath the surface.

She was pretty comfortable in her own skin, honestly. She'd been a werewolf for as long as she could remember, and it didn't bother her most days. Sure, there had been the time she'd gone out to eat with a friend's family and ordered her steak as rare as possible...which had subsequently ended that budding friendship. And the time she'd thoughtlessly sniffed the new boy in her class when she thought he was cute. He hadn't quite smelled right, anyway, so it wasn't the end of the world when he called her a freak and sat as far away as possible. Really, though, in her day-to-day life, being a werewolf didn't alienate her from people any more than being an overachieving bookworm did.

Hopefully things at Hogwarts would be different.

Hopefully they would be better.

XxxX

A woman named Lady Longbottom had owled the Grangers to let them know that she and her grandson, Neville, would be Hermione's host family in the wizarding world. They would be happy to answer any questions she and her parents had and offered to escort them all on their trip to Diagon Alley when they went shopping for school supplies. She said she could set up their home for floo travel and pick them up that way before they all went on to the Leaky Cauldron together. The Grangers graciously accepted her offer, concerning the floo and the escort to Diagon Alley, and Hermione counted down the days until she would meet her first friend from the magical community.

Augusta stepped through the floo first, quickly followed by Neville. She was sharp and matronly in a loving-grandma-who-takes-no-nonsense kind of way. Neville was quiet and painfully shy. Hermione could tell he didn't feel comfortable being away from home, especially in the presence of strangers, and Augusta's occasional sharp comment toward Neville made Hermione wonder why the woman felt the need to constantly criticize her grandson. Both of the Longbottoms had a shadow in their eyes that made Hermione wonder just what had happened to Neville's parents. But when Augusta was chatting with Helen and Richard about their plans for the day, Hermione caught Neville's eye and offered him a friendly smile. He mustered up a weak one in return, and she felt relieved. She wasn't the only one who was nervous to start school. They could be terrified together.

XxxX

Diagon Alley was a wonder to behold. The sights and smells bombarded Hermione's senses in the best possible way.

The trip over to the Leaky Cauldron had been uneventful, if a bit unsettling (all three of the Grangers agreed that traveling through the floo felt like being sucked through a straw), as was their stop at Gringotts. Muggle money had been exchanged for wizarding coins, and Hermione was ready to shop. They flew through her list, quickly acquiring her Potions class supplies, robes, and a beautiful black-banded owl who was quickly named Sirius. The Longbottoms looked at her strangely when she declared his name, but she brushed it off, saying, "Doesn't he look serious, though? It's as if he'd nip your finger if you told him a joke!" They laughed shakily and changed the subject, leaving Hermione to wonder what may have happened to her mysterious helper from her first full moon transformation years before.

They ran into a couple other people Hermione and Neville's age, including a redheaded boy named Ron with a passel of similarly carrot-topped siblings and an enormous man named Hagrid who was escorting a scrawny boy with wide green eyes, black hair, and a mysterious lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Hagrid briefly said hello but didn't introduce his charge, so Neville leant over and told Hermione, "I think that's Harry Potter!"

She whipped around to get another look at the boy, remembering reading about the Boy Who Lived in one of the many books Professor McGonagall had so kindly sent her way over the years, but he was already gone, lost to the masses. Neville simply shrugged, and they went off to get their wands.

When they arrived at Ollivander's shop, there was another boy their age already there. A magical measuring tape whirled around him, measuring every possible angle and line of his body. The bell above the door startled him, and he turned to lock eyes with Hermione.

Her first thought was that he looked cold. His hair was palest blond and slicked back out of his pointed face. His clothing consisted of only black and white - and looked to be of the highest quality. The eyes that met hers were a startling, frozen silver colour, and she held her breath under his scrutiny.

His mother coughed, and he jerked his gaze away from Hermione to the rest of her party. Seeing the Longbottoms, he greeted them, saying, "Mrs Longbottom. Neville." But he said it as if he had a bad taste in his mouth, and Hermione scowled at him.

Luckily, he didn't look at her again to notice the death glare she was sending his way.

Augusta took on the role of group matriarch and returned the greeting. "Mrs Malfoy. Draco. I hope you are both well." She sounded a little more sincere, but there was clearly something going on between the two families that Hermione didn't know about.

Fortunately, the measuring tape had finished its work, and the shop's proprietor had pulled out a stack of wands and handed the first to Draco, announcing, "Ten inches, hawthorn, unicorn hair. Reasonably pliant." When Draco stood there, silently holding the wand, he instructed, "Give it a go, my boy!"

Draco gripped the wand and gave it a controlled flick. A beam of light streamed from the wand tip, followed by a shower of silver sparks. Mrs Malfoy clapped in celebration, and Ollivander smiled, muttering something about, "Always know just what to do with these Malfoys. Powerful but so predictable." But he was closer to Hermione and the others than the cold, beautiful Malfoys and their air of holier-than-thou, and nobody but Hermione seemed to hear him, so she smiled to herself.

 _Maybe that's it_ , Hermione thought. _Maybe their hostility comes from a difference in religious beliefs. Do they even have those in the wizarding world? I'll have to ask Neville...or perhaps just find a book._

She shook her head minutely, realizing that the Malfoy family had already paid and left, meaning it was time for her and Neville to get wands of their own. Neville looked white as a sheet, and Hermione was neatly vibrating with the excitement of finally being allowed to do magic (that wasn't done on accident), so she stepped forward when Ollivander asked, "Who's next?"

The measuring tape went to work, making Hermione feel a bit violated and heartily glad that the odd, old man wasn't the one taking her measurements. She blushed but endured the process, sighing with relief when the length of tape came to rest. Ollivander glanced at the parchment where her measurements had appeared and muttered, "New blood is always good. Always a challenge," before wandering off into the depths of the shop.

Hermione heard the man shuffling through boxes and moving a sliding ladder back and forth for a few minutes before he came back into sight. The first wand he handed her looked similar to the one the Malfoy boy had ended up with.

"13 inches, hawthorn, phoenix feather. Give her a whirl!"

Hermione focused on the smooth length of wood and allowed her fingers to give it a twirl, gasping in surprise and mortification when a whole shelf nearby was instantly emptied of its contents, every single boxed wand shooting off in its own direction and creating mass chaos that only ended when Ollivander snatched the wand from her hand.

"No! No, that is definitely not quite right." He shuffled around in the stack of wands he had pulled for her and nodded to himself, offering a second one for her to try. "Perhaps something a little more flexible. Ten and three-quarters inches, vine wood. Dragon heartstring core for a girl who appears to hold her own bit of fire."

Hermione smiled briefly at the comment and looked down at the wand. Unlike the smooth one she held only moments before, this one was covered in twirling patterns of ivy. It was beautiful and feminine, and it felt good in her hand. Hoping that Ollivander had gotten it right this time, she flicked her wrist and simply stared, waiting.

The room around her filled with brilliant white light. It was so bright that everyone turned away or closed their eyes, but Hermione cracked hers back open when she heard something moving across the aisle from her. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers when she saw every misplaced box from her misfire with the first wand floating back into its proper place.

Ollivander quirked a smile at her. "I think you've found your match, miss."

She reverently held the wand, not even wanting to let go long enough to fill out the necessary paperwork to register her wand and pay for it. She was still a bit awestruck and stuck in her own world until Neville's first wand wreaked almost as much havoc as hers had. He flushed scarlet, and Hermione took pity on him, saying that she wanted to get a head start at the book shop and leading her parents out.

There was no such thing as spending too much time with books, after all.

XxxX

Draco went through the motions of the rest of the shopping trip with his mother, but the back of his mind was preoccupied with the girl with the wild brown hair and the unassuming eyes that flashed gold when their eyes locked.

He wondered how long it would take for him to forget about her and her changing eyes.

Did they really change, or was it a trick of the light?

Had he just imagined it?

A/N Guys. I have the best readers in the world. This silly, little story of mine is quickly approaching 500 followers! I can't wrap my head around it, but thank you all for the love. Every follow, favorite, and review makes my day.

I apologize for the wait on this chapter. I wrote and rewrote it and still didn't like it, so I gave it a rest and hashed out some future plot points with my betas, which helped me see exactly where I want to go with this story. I am more excited than ever, and I love the way this chapter finally came out. I am actually on vacation but finished this during our ridiculously long drive and was too excited to keep it from you, so I'm uploading via mobile. Hopefully the formatting is okay!

Beta thanks to synoir and Mahawna. These two are absolutely amazing.

I hope you like the new turn this is taking. Leave me a review to let me know what you think!

-M


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The month leading up to the start of term was filled, as it often was, with a flurry of letters to and from various students, parents, and faculty members. The content of the letters this year was far from usual, though, and many of them did not reach their intended destination.

The first was addressed to the Deputy Headmistress herself, and McGonagall found the envelope at the bottom of her paperwork pile one day in early August. It surprised her in a way that nothing else had in quite some time.

Perhaps since she had a certain four rowdy Gryffindors running about and wreaking havoc in every conceivable method and venue.

 _Professor McGonagall,_

 _I'm writing you with a bit of an odd request, but please hear me out._

 _A little bird told me that you might have a student joining you at Hogwarts this year who is not entirely human._

 _I thought it might be helpful to know that Animagi can safely interact with people like your student. I found out by accident many years ago but never thought the information could be of any use until now._

 _I know you don't have any real reason to believe me, but I hope you will._

 _It means a lot to have friends in hard times._

 _-Someone who cares_

Minerva sat with her hand over her mouth for a moment that stretched on uncomfortably long, broken only by the arrival of another owl and another letter that needed her attention. But she didn't forget the little note or its shocking contents.

Who knew about her little werewolf charge?

And why did they care enough to try to help?

Her heart clenched as her thoughts drifted to the last lone Marauder, two friends dead and one a traitor. They had been his world, especially after his parents passed away in his sixth year at school. She'd as much as known about his condition, though the words had never been spoken aloud between them or between her and the Headmaster. But the Whomping Willow had been planted shortly before young Mr Lupin arrived at Hogwarts, and his monthly time spent under the weather seemed to coincide oddly well with the moon's cycle. She had been far too wrapped up in the poor boy's life as his Head of House _not_ to realise what was going on, quite frankly, but she never felt the need to talk to him about it. He had coped well enough.

 _It means a lot to have friends in hard times._

Perhaps Potter, Black, and Pettigrew had done more for their friend than she had ever realised.

Perhaps there was more that she could have done if she had received a letter like this a few decades earlier.

Her hands were busy with the day to day work of running the school that had been her home and place of work for decades, but her mind stayed on the young Miss Granger and her less-than-anonymous guardian angel.

XxxX

The next letter was penned by Hermione Granger in a fit of boredom several days after her first visit to Diagon Alley. She didn't have many Muggle friends worth hanging around with in the Grangers' neighbourhood, and she was far too excited about the wizarding world and her new potential friends there to bother attempting to befriend anyone new for one measly summer.

 _Neville,_

 _It was so nice to meet you the other day. Thank your grandmother for all of her help. It has been wonderful to meet more people from the wizarding community. It all feels so much more real now. It's funny how I've known I'm a witch since I was young, yet you're the first person I've met who is also starting at Hogwarts this year._

 _What house are you hoping to be sorted into? Would you like to sit together on the train ride to school?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Hermione Granger_

She wasn't fully pleased with it when she finally sent it off in a fit of nerves, but she liked that draft better than the eight others that sat crumpled on her desk. _How does one go about making magical friends?_ she wondered. Since she didn't really have an answer to her own question, she simply watched Sirius depart with the letter and hoped Neville would have it in him to reply.

XxxX

When the black and grey owl with the murderous eyes arrived at Neville Longbottom's window, he was inclined to ignore the bird with the altogether inauspicious name. That seemed to offend the brute, though, and he took to pecking and scratching at the window, causing Neville to shudder and the nearby house elves to shriek at the rather large amount of pain this caused in their sensitive ears.

Eventually, one of the elves finally threw the window open with a snap of his fingers and left the room, leaving a terrified Neville to retrieve the letter attached to the bird's foot. Fortunately, Sirius-the-owl's bark was much worse than his bite, and he deftly swung out his leg and waited for Neville to remove the note attached there.

A bowl of owl treats appeared on the windowsill, and Sirius merrily hooted his goodbyes to his mistress's friend before gobbling up a few treats and taking flight once more.

Neville stared at the note in surprise and shock. He'd lived in the wizarding world his entire life, and this was the first time he could remember getting a letter by owl post for himself. But the name of his new friend adorned the corner of the little letter, and he hurried to unfold it. The hurried note made him smile, and he found a piece of parchment and his best quill before scribbling out a reply.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _It was a pleasure to escort you and your parents to Diagon Alley. I'll be sure to pass on my thanks to Gran._

 _I'd be happy to sit with you on the train. I don't really have any close friends attending Hogwarts yet either, to be honest._

 _My parents were in Gryffindor, and I know Gran hopes I'll follow in the family footsteps. I don't feel like I'm all that brave. Hufflepuff sounds alright, though._

 _Your owl scares me. Are you ready for school to start?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Neville Longbottom_

XxxX

Draco waited almost a month before he wrote his letter. His best friends were only a floo call away, and his parents were in his business more than they were in their own, Merlin help him and all the other scions of ancient and noble houses, so he didn't have much reason to write letters normally.

But the flash of amber that he'd seen in the eyes of the girl in the wandmaker's shop wouldn't leave his mind, and he couldn't bear the thought of seeing her at school without knowing what that was about. He'd searched the library from top to bottom in the stolen moments when his parents were occupied elsewhere and found many odd magical things that could happen to eyes as an effect of certain potions or spells, but nothing specifically referenced a brief appearance of amber in otherwise normal eyes.

He wrote the note in a fit of frustration after he exhausted all possible options in the Manor library and woke up from a dream of the girl with the wild hair and the eyes that turned amber before returning to their unassuming brown. She was trying to tell him something that he couldn't quite make out, and the dream unnerved him as much as it spurred his curiosity to new heights.

 _Dear __ (a blank space was left there when he realised he didn't even know her name)

 _I was curious, what is it that causes your eyes to change colour? It happened when I met you at Ollivander's, and I can't help wondering. Is it a common thing? Are you a metamorphmagus? Did you even know it happened?_

 _Hoping you are well,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

But the most obvious possible answer plagued his thoughts almost as much as those flashing eyes did. _What if it was just an odd burst of accidental magic?_

The possibility of embarrassment - for himself and his family - especially if the cause was a _girl_ … It was unbearable.

His grey eyes almost looked like they flashed amber as he stared into the flames, watching as they licked and ate at the monogrammed parchment until it withered away, gone but not forgotten.

XxxX

The final letter, sent the day before Hermione and the others were to take the train to school, was written in a moment of weakness when Remus had far too much to drink. The artificial warmth from the firewhisky burned bright enough that he let himself give in to the nostalgia, fear, and grief that plagued him as he thought of his daughter, who suffered from the same disease that had caused him to hate himself for as long as he could remember, and his own years at Hogwarts and the ensuing fallout.

The envelope was marked "return to sender" but was mysteriously lost in a worn metal wastebasket in the warden's office in Azkaban Prison.

 _P,_

 _I know you'll never see this, but I just have to tell someone. She's going to school this year. She'll be all alone, just like I was. I'm so scared she won't have anyone the way I had you._

 _I know you know all of this - if there is any part of the you I knew left after all these years - and I can't decide if that makes it better or worse._

 _Maybe both._

 _Miss you. I miss all of you, but losing you seems to hurt the most._

 _-M_

* * *

A/N Don't hurt me! It had to be written.

Thank you SO much for all the lovely reviews! I'm glad the trip to Diagon Alley and my little hint at Dramione have been appreciated. I was planning on another pairing, but my muse just _really_ loves Draco for this fic. So! I'm not promising that will be the only pairing, but it will show up eventually. ;) Let me know what you think of the letters in this chapter and stick around for the next one...off to Hogwarts we go! (I've already written most of it, which makes me excessively proud of myself. ;) )

Beta thanks to Mahawna and Synoir. These ladies put up with my crazy and make this story so much better! Sending virtual hugs your way!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Train stations were not on Hermione's list of favorite places.

The air at King's Cross was thick and heavy with the smells of the city, exhaust, and too many people in a small space. So. Many. People. The smells of the coffee they drank, the cigarettes they smoked, and the sweat they couldn't avoid on the unseasonably hot day made Hermione's head spin.

She wasted a brief moment wishing she was just about anywhere else before squaring her shoulders and forcing her way through the crowd, trunk and caged Sirius in tow.

Neville and his grandmother were waiting for them near the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters. Hermione would occasionally stretch up on her tiptoes to try and make out Neville's brown mop and round face or perhaps his grandmother's wizened features and silver curls. When she caught a glimpse of the uncomfortable-looking duo, she waved at them. Finally spotting her and her parents, they made their way toward the Grangers.

"Hello, Mrs Longbottom," Richard greeted the elderly woman, extending a hand to shake.

She took it daintily, ever the proper matriarch, regardless of her age. "It's good to see you again, Dr and Dr Granger. Hermione."

The little witch nodded her own greeting, smiling at Neville shyly. It felt good to have a friend, and she hoped they could keep up the blossoming friendship that had been established with the exchange of letters over the course of the summer.

The Grangers gave Hermione one last hug and a few kisses for the journey ahead. Richard stealthily slipped a bag of coins into Hermione's pocket. "In case you need anything," he whispered as he pretended to kiss her cheek one last time.

She squeezed him extra tight in return. "Thanks, Dad." He sent her a wink before he took Helen's hand and disappeared into the crowd.

Hermione drew upon her courage and squared her shoulders, turning her trolley toward the platform barrier. She decided that she would go first, since Neville looked like his breakfast was going to attempt to make a reappearance if he had to traverse the barrier without first seeing someone else make the trip successfully.

 _Poor Neville_ , she thought as she hurried towards the brick wall in front of her. _He's such a sweetheart. I wonder what could make him so unsure of himself._

But she wasn't able to worry about it for long, for she was suddenly enveloped in a haze of smoke, merging with the crowd of people standing on the platform that housed the Hogwarts Express. Students of all ages and sizes, including the other first years Hermione remembered meeting in Diagon Alley, said their last goodbyes to their parents and younger siblings before making their way onto the train.

Dozens of owls, cats, toads, and other pets squawked, mewled, croaked, and hooted, all making loud noises of protest as their owners did their best to keep them in one piece amid the chaos. Hermione glanced down at Sirius and was shocked to find him sleeping through the ruckus. She laughed softly to herself, moving out of the way so that Neville and his grandmother could make their way through the magical entrance.

A couple of older students, prefects, if Hermione was correct in interpreting the badges on their robes, offered to help them load their trunks and things into a compartment. Mrs Longbottom gracefully accepted, pausing only to brush an air kiss across Neville's cheek before shooing him onto the train.

It was a relief to Hermione's senses to finally have a window separating her from the cacophony outside, and she let herself relax into the cosy bench in the car she and Neville shared. He seemed almost as happy to be away from his grandmother as he was to have a friend for the long train ride to school.

They were quiet while they waited for the train to start moving, but the gentle swaying of the car soon helped them relax. Eventually, they were able to ease into their first real conversation without nearly as much stuttering and blushing as Neville had feared nor the rambling that Hermione was prone to when she was nervous.

Neville was just finishing the story of how how he'd nearly blown up Ollivander's wand shop over the course of trying out nearly a dozen wands when his pet toad, Trevor, made an enormous leap from Neville's lap. He made his way past the open car door and landed squarely in the middle of the hall before continuing his escape, croaking merrily as he jumped along the corridor and out of sight.

Neville groaned. "Not again. He did this just before we left. He is absolutely _brilliant_ at hiding, which is the absolute worst since I'm pants at finding things."

Hermione grinned at him, remembering a tidbit about Hufflepuffs from _Hogwarts: A History_ that mentioned that they were good at finding things that had been lost, and said, "Looks like you won't be sorted into Hufflepuff then!" She poked her head out into the hall. "He went this way. Let's split up and see if anyone's seen him."

Neville nodded miserably, trailing after her. She made sure he was actively looking, mumbling his inquiries to a group of seventh years, before she rapped her knuckles on the door of the next compartment, sliding it open far enough to talk to the occupants.

XxxX

Draco had just finished putting on his school robes and was slipping his tie around his neck when a knock sounded on the door of the compartment he shared with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. He huffed in annoyance but paused in his efforts long enough to see what the interloper wanted.

It was _her._ Her eyebrows were raised, and her mouth was slightly open in surprise or shock.

He furrowed his brow but didn't have long to be confused or curious or whatever he was feeling before she regained her composure and began rattling off a question.

"Have any of you seen a toad? My friend had one escape."

Draco raised an imperious eyebrow and ignored her question, instead, returning one of his own.

"Who are you?" He didn't care if it was common decency to introduce himself first. She knew who he was from Ollivander's shop. Shouldn't she return the favor?

Hermione's shoulders straightened, and she stood a bit taller. She felt chagrined, as she always did when she forgot a social nicety and her mother had to remind her. She debated the best way to respond for a moment since she wasn't sure of the proper protocol in wizarding society, but she decided it would be best to just go with what she knew.

Sticking her hand out abruptly, she declared. "I'm Hermione Granger."

He didn't look like he was going to put down the two ends of his tie to shake her hand, so she frowned minutely before she shoved her hand deep into the pocket of her robes and asked, "You are…?"

Draco scoffed quietly. "Draco Malfoy. You don't look familiar," he said, silently amending, _aside from the fact that_ _we met in Diagon Alley a few weeks back and your eyes did something funny that has my brain doing somersaults._ "What are you...a half-blood?"

Hermione tensed at the question, every hair on the back of her neck prickling at the thought of being found out. _What's he getting at? Is that some quaint way of saying I'm half girl and half wolf?_ Hoping that she had misunderstood, she stood a little taller, enjoying the slight height advantage she had on the blond boy, and said, "I'm Muggleborn."

Draco couldn't help the subtle look of disappointment and disgust that crossed his features, but he almost wished he could have kept it in check when she announced, "The toad is clearly not here. I best keep looking," and stormed from the room.

Crabbe and Goyle were mumbling something about ' _stupid Muggleborns'_ on their side of the compartment, but Draco stood still and scowled at the window he was using as a mirror until his tie was finally knotted to his liking.

 _Damn. She's a Muggleborn._

 _And her eyes didn't flash that time._

 _That's a good thing._

 _Isn't it?_

XxxX

The search for Trevor continued, and Hermione met the famous Harry Potter and his git of a redheaded friend, Ron Weasley, officially. She thought Harry might make a decent friend if given half a chance, but Ron seemed far too interested in the horrendous amounts of sugar he was shoveling down his gullet to do much more than introduce himself and be annoyed at her presence.

She couldn't blame him, really. It wasn't everyday you met the Boy Who Lived and got him all to yourself on a train ride to school.

But they hadn't seen the toad either, so she wrapped up the conversation, which included critiquing the Weasley boy's complete lack of understanding about spells - _Really, did he expect a pretty little poem about butter and daisies to turn his pet rat yellow?_ she wondered - and fixing Potter's glasses. They looked like they had been taped at the bridge more than once, and she felt suddenly grateful that her incessant need to read and study had culminated in her knowledge of an obscure spell for fixing glasses. A quick " _Oculus Reparo_ " and a quick goodbye later found Hermione back in the hall. She was about to make her way to the next compartment when she spotted Neville coming out of one a few doors down, tightly gripping his toad around its waist and scolding it under his breath. "Really, Trevor, couldn't you have at least waited until we got to school to run away? Batty toad."

She smiled fondly at him.

It was nice to have a friend.

XxxX

The boat ride across the Black Lake made Hermione feel sick. Actually, it might have been the nerves. Or a combination of both. Either way, her palms were slick with sweat and her knees felt weak by the time Professor McGonagall came to retrieve them and bring them into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony.

She arrived just in time to defuse a dispute between the Malfoy boy and Harry Potter, which Hermione was grateful for. The last thing she needed was two boys posturing and getting into a fight right in front of her before she could even start her first official day at school.

Sweeping off towards the double doors that opened into the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall bid them to follow her. Hermione obediently marched off with the other first years but almost tripped when she passed the doorway and saw the room beyond.

The tables were already full of the older students in their respective house colours, cheerily chatting away as they greeted each other for the first time in months, exchanging guesses on where the new students would end up. There were four long tables running the length of the hall, each fully stocked with dishes, goblets, and silverware that had been polished until they shone. But what caused Hermione to pause was the ceiling. It glowed with the stars and moon of the world outside the castle, wisps of white clouds floating in front of the waning moon. It had been full only a week before and was still big enough to brighten the ceiling along with the hundreds of candles that danced and bobbed about as if they were tethered on strings to swing from the ceiling.

It was official. Hermione loved magic.

She and the other new students came to a halt at the front of the hall. Professor McGonagall stood before them on a raised platform that housed a table for the professors and a stool with an old pointed hat that seemed to be more patches than original fabric. Hermione stared at it quizzically but knew it must be the renowned Sorting Hat.

As soon as the name crossed her mind, the hat burst into song.

 _I've seen into the very thoughts_

 _Of firsties through the years._

 _But I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat!_

 _You have no need to fear._

" _You may not think I'm pretty, now,_

 _Nor big, nor tall, nor strong;_

 _But I can solemnly avow,_

 _I've never sorted wrong!_

 _The brave and true, the lion's sort,_

 _Their daring makes them sure._

 _Their chivalry, I can report,_

 _Puts them in Gryffindor._

 _The smart ones, with their books and brains,_

 _Are pulled by wisdom's draw._

 _Academics run in their veins;_

 _They go to Ravenclaw._

 _The third group toils and is so just,_

 _Made of patience and loyal stuff._

 _You need not be afraid to trust_

 _Our friends in Hufflepuff._

 _The cunning and the slippery friends_

 _Will find a way to win._

 _Ambitious to the very end,_

 _The folks of Slytherin._

 _Now, I've no eyes, but I can see_

 _Potential in this lot._

 _So put me on, now, if you please,_

 _And show me what you've got!"_

The Deputy Headmistress called the names alphabetically, meaning Hermione didn't have to wait long. The time between McGonagall's curt call of "Abbott, Hannah!" and "Granger, Hermione!" seemed to fly by like a wisp on the wind.

Her hands shook as she pushed her way to the front of the little troop of first years and stepped up to the stool to be sorted, her knees giving out at the last moment, causing her to plop down onto the wooden seat a little harder than she'd intended. McGonagall settled the hat atop her mass of brown curls and stepped back.

" _Well, well,"_ the hat began. " _It's been many years since I've had the pleasure of sorting one of you."_ Hermione's brow screwed up in confusion, but the hat continued before she could speak. " _Not unlike the last one, either. Your kind is all the same."_

Her heart raced. How did it know her secret? She suddenly realized her thoughts were not quite as private as she had thought when the hat chuckled. " _It's all here, in your head.* The obsession with books and chocolate, your condition, the penchant for taking in strays and mothering everyone."_ Her cheeks heated as she realised how many of her past friendships could be seen that way; she felt a mix of embarrassment and righteous indignation. It wasn't _her_ fault so many of her classmates needed help studying or that she cared enough to try to help others succeed. " _It makes a soul very brave, you know, facing what you do every month. Though you do have smarts enough and then some…so where to put you?"_

Hermione peeked out from beneath the hat's wide brim, suddenly aware of how long this was taking. The other decisions all seemed to go fairly quickly. Her mind raced. " _Just put me where I can do the most good and be done with it!"_

The hat crowed in delight. " _There's a bit of fire in there after all, isn't there? At least enough to land you in_...GRYFFINDOR!"

The table with students in red and gold ties roared in approval, clapping and cheering as she slumped off the stool in relief. She wasn't sure how much time had actually passed, but her time under the floppy brim of the hat seemed to stretch on for hours.

She surreptitiously wiped her hands on her thighs as she sat down, hoping they weren't too sweaty as she gratefully shook the hands that were offered from various members of her new house as they welcomed her.

It took a few minutes for her rapidly thudding heart to calm down again, but she found she enjoyed watching the sorting quite a bit once she knew where she belonged. Neville was quickly put into Gryffindor, much to her excitement and Neville's obvious relief. She made sure he got a seat next to her and squeezed his hand quickly before turning back to the sorting. Her nemesis with the slicked-back blond hair was sorted into Slytherin with his trollish mates. Potter and Weasley from the train came to sit a few seats down from her at the Gryffindor table.

And soon enough everyone had been sorted, the Headmaster gave a short speech - warning of the dangers of the Forbidden Forest and a corridor on the third floor that was off-limits - and the feast began.

Her stomach rumbled involuntarily at the sight of so much food. It all smelled _amazing._ The moon had been a few days earlier, and her appetite was back in full force. Taking her cue from the older students, she piled her plate high with meats, pies, and even a few vegetables when her conscience took on her Mother's voice, reminding her how important a balanced diet was… ' _even for werewolves.'_ Hermione smiled to herself, missing her mum already, and returned to happily chatting with Neville and the other Gryffindors. She grinned when dessert appeared. Everything within her reach appeared to include some element of chocolate, and she dug in with relish, thinking she would have to thank the cooks as soon as she got the chance.

* * *

A/N *I borrowed this line from the first Harry Potter movie! It just seemed to fit here. :)

Bit beta thanks to Mahawna and Synoir. Those ladies keep me excited about this story and point out plot holes and other things I would have missed otherwise, so send them some love!

ALSO! As a bit of a housekeeping thing, I have a question for you all. If I could hypothetically set up a weekly update schedule (I'm ahead of the story for once!), what day of the week would you like to see updates? Pretty please leave a review to let me know what you thought of the chapter and when you want to see more of it. :) Thanks! Love you all! My muse wouldn't be nearly as happy with this story as it is if you weren't all so fantastic at leaving favorites, follows, and reviews for me to get all starry-eyed over. It keeps me going, so thank you!

Until next week!

-M


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Hermione was up with the sun the next morning, eager to eat breakfast and be off to her first class. She took the last few bites of her bacon to go since she was nervous about getting lost and arriving to her first class after it had already begun.

She trudged up countless steps, only stumbling the first two times the staircases moved on her, and eventually made it safely to the Transfiguration classroom. She was the first to arrive, save for the tartan-clad professor seated at her desk. Hermione set her things down on a desk near the front of the room and made to sit down when Professor McGonagall kindly said, "A word, Miss Granger."

Hermione remembered the note she had received from the Deputy Headmistress during the summer and quickly made her way forward. McGonagall straightened her half-moon spectacles, glancing at the door to make sure they were alone before she spoke. "Would you mind meeting with me after supper? We have several things to discuss."

Hermione nodded. "Where should we meet?"

McGonagall flitted a hand around her. "Here in my classroom is fine. If you don't find me here, I'll be in my office. Thank you, Miss Granger. You may return to your seat."

Smiling stiffly, still unused to having people other than her parents speak about her lycanthropy, Hermione sat down just as the first students started to file into the room. Malfoy and his goons sent her a sneer. Neville stumbled in next and chatted happily about breakfast and the unseasonably good weather. She noticed Potter and Weasley were missing just as McGonagall stood and started the lesson. Her lecture lasted about ten minutes before she instructed them to write down the instructions from the board for their notes. With that, she leaned forward and slid into the form of a tabby cat, jumping gracefully to land on the tidy surface of her desk.

Every quill in the room went still for a moment before the cat cast a sweeping glance around the room and stepped forward to the edge of the desk, as if to say, 'Back to work!'

The students resumed their note-taking, only glancing away from their parchments when the classroom door slammed open a few minutes later.

The two missing Gryffindors came running into the classroom, limbs flying and hair wild from their apparent race through the corridors.

The redhead perked up when he didn't see the professor in the room. "Blimey! We still managed to beat her here. Isn't that lucky?"

His scrawny friend only managed a nod before McGonagall was bouncing off the desk again, rising to her rather intimidating human form in an instant. She strode towards the boys and ushered them to the last two empty seats, scolding them all the while.

Hermione returned to her work, shaking her head.

 _Boys._

XxxX

Hermione had endured every transformation that she could remember, alone. Her parents often talked about the nice young man with the funny name, _Sirius Black_ , who had come to help with her first transformation, but she didn't remember him. Apparently, he had been able to transform into a great, black dog and had made sure she stayed in one piece during the night of first full moon after she was bitten. He had warned her parents that he may not be able to come back since there was a war going on in wizarding Britain. She wondered about him from time to time, and she hoped he was safe.

In the years since that first full moon after she was bitten, the big barn on her family's land in the forest had served her well. She had only escaped in her wolf form the one time, and some Ministry employees had been able to outfit the barn with a large cage after that little scare. Luckily, she'd just woken up naked in the middle of the forest. No one had been hurt, but she welcomed the feeling of safety that the extra precautions of the cage and additional wards afforded her.

Now that she would be going off to school, she wasn't really sure how she would handle her transformations. Even though it made her uncomfortable, she was grateful Professor McGonagall was taking the time to show her what to do now that she couldn't get to her cabin during the school year.

Following McGonagall's instructions to meet after dinner found Hermione knocking on the Transfiguration Professor's office door while Neville and the other Gryffindors made their way back to the common room for the night.

"Come in," a muffled voice called.

"Good evening, Professor," Hermione greeted her respectfully, a shy smile on her face.

"Miss Granger, thank you for meeting with me. I thought it might be best to arrange your setup for the full moon once you had arrived at school so that I could show you the accommodations and precautions we have set up for you." Her normally stern face wrinkled with compassion and concern, and just a hint of old, sad memories.

Hermione nodded. "I have time now, if that would work for you, Professor?"

McGonagall gave a sad smile, blinking the nostalgia from her eyes. "That works nicely. If you'll just follow me."

She stood and swept from the office, leaving Hermione to scramble after her, down an assortment of moving staircases, mostly-empty corridors, and the stone steps from the Entry Hall. Hermione felt her heartbeat quicken as she realised they were probably heading out to the Forbidden Forest. It had only been the night before when the Headmaster had warned them all to stay away from the ominous line of trees spreading out along the perimeter of the school grounds, and she didn't like the idea of being out there by herself, even if she would be at least as dangerous as anything else out there for most of the night.

Luckily, McGonagall slowly turned and started making her way towards...a rather knobbly-looking tree. Hermione's brow furrowed, and she wondered why they seemed to be heading away from any building, forest, or other sensible destination. When they were nearly within hitting distance, the tree sprang to life and made to swat at the witches daring to intrude upon its space. The professor stopped and sent an unusual stunning spell toward the tree. The branches went from twitching and twirling to utterly still within an instant, and Hermione followed McGonagall's lead to the tree. She watched as her professor pointed out a specific knot in the tree, prodding it with her wand. A small door swung open in the rough bark of the tree, and the two witches disappeared inside it.

The walk through the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow stretched on for an uncomfortably long moment. Hermione could hear and smell too many dead - and almost worse, living - things taking up residence in the loamy dirt of the tunnel's walls, and she cringed as she tried to block it all out, focusing on the smell of something different above the trapdoor at the end of the passage.

McGonagall took her hand and helped her up through the hole in the floor when they arrived. Hermione turned around in a slow circle, inspecting the building that was to be her home for one night a month.

It was ancient. And dusty. And riddled with so many claw and bite marks that Hermione couldn't help but feel a little terrified.

Her voice shook as she asked, "Who - who did this?"

McGonagall sighed. "You are not the first werewolf to attend our school, Miss Granger. A number of years ago another student made use of this building as a safe haven for his transformations. I suspect he may have had some help from his friends when he was older, but he endured most of the transformations…" she dropped her head, still pained to admit it, "...alone."

Hermione tilted her head in confusion. "I've never done anything like this. I might dig up the ground a bit or turn something nearby into a chew toy, but this is...so much worse. Did he hurt himself doing this?" She waved a hand around the room, feeling something strange and new crawl beneath her skin. What was wrong with him? Was the same thing wrong with _her_? Or would it be, someday soon?

McGonagall nodded. "It was fairly commonplace to find him taking up residence in the hospital wing for a day or two after the full moon, poor boy. He looked sickly and beat up on the best of days, but those just after his transformation were the worst."

Hermione nodded, intrigued. Maybe his transformations were worse than hers for some reason. It certainly sounded like it. She decided asking more questions might promote a feeling of anxiety more than one of peace, so she dropped the subject.

"And I can come here on my own?"

McGonagall nodded. "I have recently come to understand that Animagi can safely interact with werewolves when in their animal forms. If I had known this years ago, I would have tried to do more. As it is, I would be happy to join you for your transformations if that would be helpful for you."

The younger witch considered the offer. "Maybe for the first moon or two, until I feel comfortable and safe here. I don't foresee it being an issue, though. As long as the wards hold strong, I should be just fine here." It wasn't the homiest place she'd ever been, but she didn't remember much of her time in her wolf form anyway. She could leave first thing in the morning and get back to her studies.

Professor McGonagall nodded briskly. "I will plan my schedule accordingly. Never be afraid to ask if you wish for company, Miss Granger. As your Head of House, and as your friend, I would very much like to help in any way that I can." She smiled sadly again. "It feels a bit like I'm making up for past shortcomings."

Hermione didn't know quite what to say to that, so she just smiled in understanding and gestured for her professor to lead the way back down into the passageway that led back to school.

As they clambered through the trapdoor, she realised she'd neglected to ask a question that had been niggling in the back of her mind ever since they'd arrived at the old, dilapidated house. "What is this place called, Professor?"

McGonagall looked over her shoulder, her eyes sharp and haunted with memories of another book smart Gryffindor with shaggy brown hair and scars, inside and out.

"The Shrieking Shack."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for all the love on the last chapter! This little story is only five reviews away from hitting 400 reviews, and I am in complete shock. Thank you for loving it as much as I do. :) I know this one is a little shorter, but this is where it felt like it needed to end. :) Don't worry, if I keep up with my momentum we'll continue to have weekly updates! The people have spoken, and Monday updates won by a landslide. I will do everything I can to keep that up but do keep in mind that I'm a busy mama and may need to switch things up or take a week off here or there.

Beta brownies for Mahawna and Synoir. You two are the best!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The next morning found Hermione following her nose down into the bowels of the school. The smells of damp stone and putrid potions ingredients made it rather difficult to get lost.

Her first week of school had absolutely flown by. The professors had so far been wonderful, though the older Gryffindors had told her enough horror stories about the Potions Professor to make her wary of the man she was about to meet for the first time. It was Double Potions with the Slytherins, and a closer inspection of her schedule made Hermione wonder why the two opposing houses were continually being smashed together in the classroom. It seemed like it would make more sense to have Gryffindor and Hufflepuff together, given their more compatible dispositions. But no, the Slytherins were in nearly every class with the first year Gryffindors, and that stupid head of platinum hair was getting _bloody distracting!_

She didn't know what it was. Malfoy had given her exactly zero reasons to make her interested in him; he'd been a rude, snide, smirking prat at every available opportunity over the past week. Yet still, she found herself glancing at him over breakfast or when she should have been taking notes in class. She knew it wasn't a crush - on the contrary, it was more like a painful awareness of someone she very much _disliked._

Whatever it was, she wished it would go away.

Turning into the Potions hallway, she spotted the subject of her thoughts and groaned internally, slowing her gait and praying to the powers above that someone from her own house would come save her from yet another uncomfortable encounter with the pale Slytherin git.

It was not to be. Despite her best attempts at lollygagging, she and Malfoy arrived at the door to the classroom at the same time, and he surprised her by waiting for her to enter first. The effect of his gallantry was quickly snuffed out when he murmured, "I know your pet Longbottom is good at losing things, but did he lose himself this morning? Doesn't seem like you go anywhere without him trailing behind you like a lovesick puppy." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered from their places behind Malfoy, bumping shoulders in amusement.

Hermione didn't want to stoop to his level, so she simply said, "He's my friend. I'm sure he'll be along shortly," and took a seat away from where the Slytherins stood.

She noticed Malfoy's shoulders deflate slightly before he straightened again and took his own stool at a workbench across the room from her own.

 _Good_ , she thought, _taking the fun out of his bullying at least has some effect._

Just as she'd predicted, Neville and the other Gryffindor boys wandered in a moment later, talking about the game of Exploding Snap that had singed Seamus Finnigan's eyebrows the night before. They seemed oblivious to the tension that coated the air between Hermione and Draco, and she was grateful. Neville sat down by Harry and Ron, which Hermione thought was probably for the best, so Malfoy wouldn't have more ammunition on that front. She was still disappointed not to sit next to her friend, though.

Parvati Patil, one of Hermione's roommates, eventually came to fill the seat next to her, and she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and smiled at the girl who smiled back politely. Hermione turned her gaze back to her notes to avoid the staring eyes of the various pickled creatures in their little jars on the wall. The smell was making her feel a bit sick; she tried to discreetly breathe through her mouth.

As the last student took his seat, the Potions Professor swept into the room, and the classroom door slammed shut.

Hermione was startled into taking a deep breath in through her nose and instantly regretted it.

The professor was tall and thin with a hooked nose and waves of limp black hair. He already looked well past grumpy, and Hermione had a second to think that probably didn't bode well for her or her classmates before Snape sat at his desk and started calling attendance. His eyes flicked around the room, briefly meeting the gaze of each student that he was to teach for the next seven years before continuing down the list. His dark - _were his eyes black?_ \- gaze gave Hermione the chills, and she was grateful she was sitting a few tables away from the front of the room.

There was a darkness about Professor Snape that set her senses on edge.

When he reached Potter's name on the roll, he stopped and stared at the boy, ebony eyes staying trained on him for much longer than the usual split second.

"Look who decided to join us today. Mr Potter… The Boy Who Lived, himself." His eyes bored holes into Potter for another moment, his disdain for the boy abundantly clear, before Snape's attention returned to the roll of parchment in his hand.

The class as a whole seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when he moved on to the next name.

When he was finished with marking the roll, he stood and made his way to the front of the class, black robes billowing out behind him. Hermione clutched her quill, eager to jot down her first notes of the day, and waited.

Snape's gaze trailed the room, commanding their continued silence with a mere look before he began. "Today starts your journey in the art of potion making. Unlike most of the other classes offered here at Hogwarts, the use of a wand is not necessary here. If you are willing to put in the time and effort - and are not as big a bunch of idiots as I usually teach - you will be able to brew potions the likes of which would surpass even the most inspired imagination."

He swept around the potion's bench at the front of the room - apparently his own setup for brewing potions or demonstrating various ingredient preparation and brewing techniques - and pointed toward a few of the cauldrons. "Dreamless Sleep for those who suffer chronic nightmares. Veritaserum to force someone to tell the truth. Wolfsbane," and his eyes flashed back to Hermione for the briefest glance, "to keep werewolves tame during the full moon."

Her heart thudded in her chest. It had honestly never occurred to her that professors other than McGonagall would be privy to the information that she was a werewolf. She didn't think she would need to miss class or turn in assignments late. _Why_ did this man - the so-called bat of the dungeons - know? And why was he brewing Wolfsbane?

He continued on with his lecture for a few more minutes before he suddenly whirled to Harry Potter, eyes throwing daggers at him. Professor Snape pelted the scrawny, messy-haired boy with question after question. None of the other students seemed to know the answers - or at least didn't look like they wanted to face the renowned wrath of the Potions professor. Despite her better judgment, Hermione raised her shaking hand again and again in an attempt to help Potter and possibly continue the nice little habit of earning house points she'd developed during the week up until that point. Instead, she merely ended up frustrated - with the professor for ignoring her and with Potter for not knowing any of the answers. They were all in their potions text, after all!

Finally, Professor Snape tired of her attempts to answer the questions that were apparently only for Potter and snapped, "That is quite enough!" She hesitantly lowered her hand, face flaming. Snape threw a few more barbed questions at Potter, took away points, then asked why the class wasn't taking notes.

Hermione's eyes stung with furious tears. What did this atrocious man have against her and Harry? It seemed that she'd been at school for less than a week and was already experiencing prejudice - at the hand of one of her teachers, no less. And what had Harry done to deserve the man's wrath? She hadn't liked the boy much up to that point - largely because of his choice of friends - but this made Hermione feel a sense of kinship and protectiveness for him. It wasn't like he had done anything _wrong._ There had been no assigned reading for the summer, and she doubted that anyone other than her had bothered with studying ahead.

When Snape gruffly dismissed them from the lecture portion of class and threw instructions onto the chalkboard with his wand for their first brewing session Hermione simply took down the instructions for later use and offered to grab the necessary ingredients. Parvati was still writing down her own notes so she gratefully agreed.

Hiccoughing Potion, Hermione mused, sounded useful enough. She carefully gathered the necessary ingredients, intrigued by the mix of ingredients from both the magical and Muggle realms.

The potion was surprisingly easy to brew. Hermione had spent enough time in the kitchen to feel comfortable with a knife and cooktop, and this wasn't so different. Parvati mumbled something about how their house elf had done all the cooking at home but did her best to copy Hermione's movements. Hermione discreetly checked and fixed the ingredients as necessary, but Parvati was too absorbed in her work to truly notice.

Suddenly, a horrid burning smell filled the air, and Hermione covered her nose. No one else seemed to be reacting yet, but Professor Snape had his eyes on her and started sweeping around the room until he found the source of the stench.

"Longbottom! First day of class and you've already managed to make a complete dunderhead of yourself. Five points from the lot of you for not being observant enough to notice that you were to add the powdered porcupine quills after the potion was off the flame."

Harry and Ron sputtered in indignation but had the sense to remain silent, though Hermione heard a faint thud from her spot a few rows back and suspected someone had received a swift kick to the leg beneath the table.

She sighed. All of her other classes so far were absolutely wonderful.

She supposed it made sense that one of them would be...less so.

XxxX

Hermione happily fell into the rhythm of classes, enjoying the lectures and homework just as much as her time in the common room helping Neville - and the occasional other first year - study. She could tell Neville didn't share her passion for books and learning, but he clearly wanted to make his gran proud. He worked hard to overcome his natural knack for forgetting and breaking things. Despite the way Neville's grandmother seemed to scare the pants off of him, he told her everything. Hermione wrote to her parents often, but it was nothing compared to the amount of owl post Neville was always trudging to the owlery to send off to Lady Longbottom.

Her concern over Neville's growing number of mishaps became evident when she sent him a short note near the end of their second week of classes along with a small square package. The Longbottom family owl dropped it next to his plate at breakfast. Neville read the note with a scowl on his round, red face. Hermione was tempted to ask him what his grandmother had written but didn't want to add to his embarrassment. Instead, she continued to eat her breakfast and waited for Neville to open the gift.

He untied the ribbon around the little box and pulled the lid open before gently shaking out the contents. A small glass orb rolled out into his palm and his eyes went wide. His cheeks grew pink again. Hermione didn't have time to ask why before Dean Thomas shouted, "Oi! Neville's got a new Remembrall." The nearby Gryffindors - and even a few members of other houses - turned in interest, hoping to catch a peek at the new gadget.

Hermione brightened at Dean's words. "Oh, I've read about those! After you shake it the smoke turns red if you've forgotten something."

Neville clutched the gift in hand, his clammy palm slick on the smooth, swirling patterns of the glass ball. He looked like he would rather put it back where it came from than use it - and likely watch the smoke turn red. But Seamus Finnigan, another of Neville's roommates - reached to shake Neville's shoulder and prompted, "Give her a whirl, Neville!"

His shoulders sagged and he acquiesced, shaking the Remembrall from side to side, sighing in disappointment when it filled with scarlet smoke.

"That's great and all," Neville said, attempting to laugh it off, "but I haven't the foggiest idea what I've forgotten."

Hermione and their other year-mates laughed with Neville fondly, but she was the only one who kept her attention on Neville. Everyone else turned to finish their breakfast and homework before classes started for the day. Seamus was busy trying to turn his morning pumpkin juice into something a little stronger, but so far he'd only managed to make it spark and smoke, renewing the laughter around him.

Harry was reading an article aloud from the _Prophet_ , and Hermione listened as she eyed Neville, trying to figure out what he might have left in the dorms this time. It was usually a quill, textbook, or spare parchment. This time it was easier to spot.

Harry interrupted her thoughts. He was concerned that someone had tried to break into a vault at Gringotts that he had apparently visited with Hagrid before coming to school, and that sent her mind whirling. She'd have to save that discussion for another day, though. It was almost time for class.

"It's an easy fix this time, Neville. You just forgot your robes."

He looked down at himself in disbelief before laughing again. "I'm a right mess. Not sure what I'd do without you to keep my head on straight."

Hermione grinned and said, "Come on. I think we have time before class." She stood and led the way back up to Gryffindor Tower.

Neville was right behind her.

XxxX

Draco watched as the Gryffindor duo left, smirking internally at the way Neville really did look like an overfed crup puppy following his owner around. He was utterly whipped by the young witch and it was only the second week of term! _Longbottom is hopeless without her_ , he thought to himself, feeling only slightly less amused when his own two overgrown shadows stood at either side of him and followed him to the first class of the day.

He'd have to pretend to be nice to the boy long enough to try his Remembrall, that was certain. They were rare, from what he had read. Even though he knew his parents could easily afford to send him one, he didn't envy Longbottom the embarrassment that came with that particular gift.

Didn't his grandmother realise how mortifying that would be?

A Slytherin would have had the sense to play it off as some bauble sent from doting family as a "happy second week of school" kind of gift, or perhaps even a joke, but Lady Longbottom should have known her grandson was far too transparent for that.

Draco huffed under his breath. "Bloody Gryffindors."

XxxX

The afternoon was cool and crisp with the smells of leaves beginning to change colour and autumn rain. The Gryffindor first years were making their way down the front steps of the school to prepare for their first flying lesson. They walked out into the courtyard and huddled together to await the arrival of their instructor. The other houses were not far behind. Many of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs came over to say hello, but the Slytherins kept to themselves.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at that, but her reprieve was short lived.

Neville was just pulling out his Remembrall - which had quickly become the star of the day as various classmates borrowed it to find out if they'd forgotten anything - when Malfoy strode over to chat.

He just couldn't seem to help himself.

"So the rumours are true, then? You are the lucky owner of a Remembrall." His chipper voice surprised Hermione. By the looks on the faces of her fellow Gryffindors, she wasn't the only one who had been expecting a snarky comment from the blond boy. He went on, "Mind if I give it a whirl?"

Neville handed it over hesitantly, looking like he would very much like to just say, 'No.' But he was pants at standing up for himself and hesitantly dropped the gift into the Slytherin's upturned palm. Malfoy gave it a quick shake, but the tiny cloud inside stayed innocently white. "Pity. Looks like I haven't forgotten anything."

A black-haired girl with exotic eyes and an upturned nose came over to stand next to Malfoy. "Making friends with Gryffindors, are we?"

Draco scowled, handing back the Remembrall and making his way back toward his housemates. The girl - Pansy Parkinson, if Hermione's memory served her correctly - rolled her dark eyes and followed him.

Ron scowled after them, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, "Bloody Slytherins…"

The mood was instantly lightened when a witch with spiked grey hair and glowing yellow eyes marched into the courtyard, commanding the first years' attention instantly with merely her presence.

"Good afternoon, everyone!"

The students echoed her sentiment.

A flick of her wand sent the doors of the nearby broom shed flying open. Two tidy rows of bedraggled school brooms formed near the students. "I'm Madam Hooch. I'll be your flying instructor this year. Please pick a broom and stand to the left of it." When only a few students immediately heeded her words she urged, "Go on! Line up, everyone!"

That sent the students scattering. When they were in their places Madam Hooch continued with her instructions. "Now! Place your right hand above your broom and say, 'Up!'"

A chorus of matching shouts rang out, and Potter's broom instantly slammed into his palm, making him wobble off balance. Hermione scowled. She wasn't used to having someone else best her in class. She continued urging the broom skyward, wishing it would stop twitching like something dying on the ground. "UP!"

Neville was having more luck on Harry's other side. He already had his broom in hand as well. Hermione's frustration was growing, but she got a quick laugh when Weasley's broom flew up to smack him in the face. Still smiling to herself, she did her best to focus on her magic and words.

"Up!"

The broom lifted gently to rest beneath her palm, and she clung onto it before it could decide to drift back down. She wasn't the last person to get it right, and that helped her feel a bit better.

Once everyone had their broom in hand Madam Hooch demanded their attention once more. "This will be the first time many of you have flown, so we will be starting with the basics. Go ahead and mount your broom. Push off the ground slightly. Allow your broom to keep you aloft for a moment before pushing down on the handle and coming back to the ground. Any questions?" It seemed no one had the audacity to question the hawk-like woman. Something about her set Hermione's inner wolf on edge, but she tried to ignore it.

She mounted her broom and was getting ready to attempt flying for the first time - hopefully, it went better than her attempts to take her broom in hand - when Neville pushed off next to her and started to panic. His broom rose quickly, and she wondered why he didn't just push down on the handle like Hooch had explained. She thought he'd said he was familiar with flying, but perhaps he'd exaggerated his skills.

Madam Hooch noticed Neville's plight. "Mr Longbottom! Come back down!"

Neville was already frantically crying, "Down! DOWN!" in hopes that the broom would heed his words if not his attempts to steer.

But he just kept on going, rapidly gaining speed and turning every which way. It looked as if he were possessed. Hermione found herself standing frozen in place, broom forgotten beneath her with her free hand over her mouth in fear.

 _Why does anyone want to fly if it's this dangerous? And why hasn't anyone invented a safer broom? These are the_ school-approved _models?_ Her thoughts raced with fear for her friend - and for herself if this class was going to force her to follow in his steps.

Neville's broom had taken him out of sight beyond one of the stone towers of the school, but Hermione's lupine hearing allowed her to continue to hear his screaming and begging for help. If she wasn't afraid she would just put herself in equal danger she would have taken to the air and gone after him.

Madam Hooch was turning every which way, attempting to locate Neville once more and help him return to the ground. He suddenly came whirling back into view, broom turning him end over end and slamming into the wall repeatedly before sending him hurtling toward the other students.

"MR LONGBOTTOM!" Madam Hooch bellowed, wand brandished in front of her.

Apparently, she got angry when students were nearly killed under her tutelage.

Her frustration did little to slow the boy's speed, and he went hurtling forward, forcing Hooch and the others to dive out of the way before he flew beneath a nearby tunnel that led to other parts of the grounds. By the time he came back again, he was soaring over the nearest tower, and his robes (he thanked Merlin and Circe and every other magical name he could think of for those beautiful, _beautiful_ robes) caught on a statue. His broom continued on, but he was finally free of its dangerous designs.

He breathed a sigh of relief but immediately felt the robes shift and tear as he did so.

This was just not his day.

The hem of his robes tore clean through, sending him plummeting toward the blessed ground again - just a lot faster than he'd hoped. The tattered fabric caught on an enormous torch sconce for another split second before he tumbled the rest of the way to the grass.

Hermione's heart clenched in her chest, and she tried not to breathe, too scared she would smell her friend's blood.

Madam Hooch rushed forward, kneeling at his side and checking for injuries. Neville was whimpering as she gave him a once over, but she quickly found his main injury. "Oh, poor boy. It looks like you've broken your wrist." She urged him to his feet, keeping his arm still as they made their way to the front doors of the school.

Before they were out of earshot she called, "There will be no more flying today! Everyone stay on the ground. Anyone who chooses to ignore that instruction will find themselves expelled before they can say, 'Quidditch.'"

Hermione happily tossed her broom back down on the ground, genuinely hoping that this was her one and only lesson with the flying death traps.

She was about to go after Neville when a glint of something shiny sparkled in the corner of her eye. _Neville's Remembrall!_ She stepped forward to grab it, but Malfoy was much closer and snatched it up before she had the chance. The class congregated around the two of them, sensing an impending dramatics.

Malfoy tossed the little ball into the air several times, catching it easily on its way back down. "Too bad he didn't stop to give this a shake. Might have reminded him to fall on his fat arse." His housemates laughed and jeered, but Hermione was not amused.

"That's not yours," Hermione said shortly, feeling the fuse of her temper burning speedily shorter.

Draco smirked haughtily. "Not like he'll remember he lost it anyway. He wouldn't know where his head was if you didn't help him find it most days."

The Slytherins were nearly rolling with laughter by now. Hermione scowled at all of them, wishing more than _anything_ that she could hex them all there and then and be done with it.

Surprisingly, Harry stepped forward to take her side. "Give it to her, Malfoy."

"No, I think I'll hold onto it for now. Might hide it somewhere for Longbottom to find." He remounted his broom, kicking off with ease and gliding upward. "Maybe up on the roof? He seemed to like it up there."

Hermione was seeing red, and she knew exactly what to do. Madam Hooch had said that anyone who flew again today would be expelled.

Well, as far as she was concerned, there was a Hogwarts Express ticket headed back to King's Cross with Malfoy's name on it.

But before she could run to the nearest occupied classroom to find a teacher, Harry had also taken to the air. He rocketed after Malfoy, stopping only a few metres away from the blond boy.

They spoke quietly enough that Hermione couldn't hear them clearly, but her heart went into her throat when Harry rushed Malfoy and the Slytherin ducked, spinning down below the handle before righting himself once more.

How was he so bloody good at flying?

Malfoy said something else before tossing the Remembrall into the air. Hermione nearly whipped out her wand and hexed him after all, but she saw Harry streaking after the little orb and forgot about the pointy git.

Malfoy had an easy confidence in the air, anyone could see that, but Harry was a natural. His chest hugged tight to the handle of his broom, body folded in on itself to give him the greatest speed.

A mere instant before he was about to crash into one of the windows he caught the ball and continued the motion down, flipping head first and jerking to a stop before he gently descended to the courtyard below.

The Gryffindors and their friends were cheering, Malfoy and his group looking on in annoyance, when Harry touched down. Harry gently placed the Remembrall into Hermione's hand and asked, "You'll see that it gets to him?" before the crowd of exuberant first years swallowed him up.

Hermione smiled, nodding to herself as she made her way back toward the school.

 _Absolutely._

Maybe Potter wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

A/N: Happy Monday! I hope the nice, long (for me) chapter helps your week start off on a good note. I just wanted to say thanks for all the reviews and follows! I get a stupid grin on my face every time I see a notification about them. Seriously. My family probably thinks I'm crazy, but you guys are the best! (I know I probably say something like that every update, but it's really true...I don't get sick of hearing from you lovely people! haha)

As always, thank you to my betas - Synoir and Mahawna - for putting up with my shenanigans and continuing to help make this story worth reading.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

When Hermione and Neville got back to the common room later that evening, the place was buzzing with excitement. Harry's name kept getting tossed around but Hermione couldn't catch why. Something about a 'seer' or a 'seeker' or _something_ kept popping up, but she couldn't make sense of it.

Neville seemed to know what everyone was on about, though.

He made a beeline toward Potter as soon as he spotted the boy's messy head of hair. "Is it true, what everyone's saying, Harry? McGonagall made you the team seeker?"

Harry grinned and nodded, scrubbing a hand along the back of his neck subconsciously. "Erm, yeah. Malfoy threw your Remembrall earlier and I sort of...caught it right in front of McGonagall's office window."

Ron piped up from his spot next to Harry on the settee. "I thought for sure he and Malfoy were going to be expelled! Instead, she takes him up to meet with Oliver Wood and gets him a spot on the house team! 'Youngest seeker in a century,' she said!"

Hermione was frustrated by the way Harry had been rewarded for breaking the rules, but he'd done it to help Neville, so she decided to let it slide and attempt to make another friend. "Congratulations, Harry!"

He still looked embarrassed but glowed under all the praise. Glancing up to meet her eye, he simply said, "Thanks."

XxxX

After dinner, Hermione was leaving the Great Hall with Harry, Ron, and Neville when someone stepped out of the shadows.

Ron looked disgusted and spoke for all of them. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Just wanted to congratulate you on your new place on your house team, Potter. Looks like everything worked out for the best after all."

Ron guffawed. "Showed your sorry arse up, didn't he?"

Draco bristled. "About that. I was rather hoping for a chance to redeem myself." He stood to the full extent of his short stature, staring down his nose at them as best he could and drawing on his aristocratic upbringing to level them all with a cold, controlled look. "I formally challenge you to a wizard's duel in the trophy room tomorrow night. Do you accept the challenge?"

Neville stood staring stupidly at Draco, but Ron was fuming.

Hermione, ever the voice of reason, was the first to speak. "Just leave it, Harry. You have no obligation to fight him."

"It doesn't work like that in the wizarding world, Hermione! He has to fight to defend his honour. Otherwise, he forfeits." Ron disagreed.

"That's absolute rubbish!"

"It's true, Hermione," Neville piped up. "The laws for duelling go back thousands of years. Gran made me read all about them growing up."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, feeling the embarrassment of being wrong and fury at the unfairness of it all. She felt distinctly disadvantaged for her first time at Hogwarts. All of the children from wizarding families had a big advantage that she could never hope to learn from a book - growing up immersed in the magical community.

Deflating in defeat, Hermione turned to Harry and said, "Do what you feel you need to." She turned and swept off down the corridor.

XxxX

Despite her reassurance to Harry that she was on his side about the whole thing, Hermione secretly hoped that he would call the whole thing off before they had to sneak down to the trophy room for the duel.

It was not to be.

It was just before midnight, and well past curfew, when she and Neville followed Harry and Ron down the winding staircases to the third floor. When they entered the dimly lit trophy room, Malfoy stood at the far end, flanked - as usual - by Crabbe and Goyle.

The blond boy stepped forward as the Gryffindors came 'round the corner. "I thought you might have decided not to come."

Ron nearly growled in frustration. "Fat chance, Malfoy."

Draco was just about to ask who Harry had picked as his second when a mangy tabby cat stepped into view and glared daggers at the lot of them.

Neville groaned. "Not Mrs Norris! She finds me every time I get lost. If Gran hears that Filch has caught me one more time I think she'll come up to the school and charm a map onto my hand so I stop getting into trouble. Actually, that's not a bad…"

"Neville!" they chorused. Everyone was looking around in a panic, but they all knew there was only one escape route.

The forbidden corridor.

Draco led the way, absolutely certain that his parents would hear about him getting caught if his Head of House had anything to say about it. He grimaced at the thought, knowing that his mother would be as distraught as his father would be furious if he got into trouble.

They sprinted down the hall, torches flickering to life as they ran past, lighting their way. At the end of the corridor was a lone wooden door. Harry had somehow caught up to Draco - fast little bugger - and tried to open it.

"It's locked!"

"Idiot," Draco muttered under his breath, just as Hermione said, "Let me try."

As one, they brandished their wands and cast, " _Alohamora!"_ The door burst open from the force of the combined spell, and their gazes locked together for a stunned second before they opened the door the rest of the way and dashed inside. Crabbe and Goyle were the last to get in and hurriedly shut the door behind them.

The group stood facing the door, panting loudly, until Neville turned and said, "Erm...guys?

The quavering of Neville's voice sent a shiver of fear down Hermione's spine, and she slowly turned to see what had him sounding so nervous.

She kind of wished she hadn't.

She wasn't sure how she'd missed the smell or the sounds of the enormous, slumbering three-headed dog before them, but she chalked it up to the fear of getting caught and the heavy smell of dust in the normally unused classroom. Neville sneezed, proving her thoughts had some merit.

" _Achoo!_ " The sound echoed off the stone walls. All seven sets of eyes were riveted on the cerberus, hearts hammering and breath stuck in their throats.

A low rumble sounded from the mountain of black fur, and Hermione felt it in her bones. Its eyes blinked open slowly, one set at a time, as if it was confused to have visitors at this time of night. It raised its heads and clambered to its feet, still growling.

Hermione's wolf was commanding her to _run_ , but she was rooted to the spot.

Draco had heard of cerberi and had zero intention of becoming this one's midnight snack. He yanked the door back open and fled out into the corridor once more. Crabbe and Goyle weren't far behind their fearless leader.

Hermione swallowed her anxiety and ushered her friends through the classroom door, slamming it shut behind them and using her wand to lock it once more.

Neville chuckled an awkward, glad-to-be-alive laugh. "Guess we know why this corridor is forbidden now, eh?"

Harry simply nodded, green eyes still blown wide with terror. Ron shook his head. "Who keeps a bloody thing like _that_ in a school? Doesn't matter if they say it's out of bounds. There are _children_ here!"

They all heartily agreed.

They slowly made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower, creeping around corners lest they be spotted by Filch, Mrs Norris, or Peeves - the castle poltergeist. Hermione whispered, "Did you all notice what was on the floor beneath it?"

The boys looked at her in shock. Neville managed to respond, "I was a bit too busy praying we wouldn't get eaten."

Ron nodded emphatically. "The three heads seemed a bit more interesting than its feet. _Three heads_ , bloody hell…" he trailed off, speaking the last part mostly to himself.

Harry's interest was piqued, though. "What did you see?"

"A trapdoor of some sort. I think it's hiding - or guarding - something."

He frowned, brow lowering in thought. "Maybe this has something to do with what was in the paper this morning…"

XxxX

The morning came far too early. They had stayed up for another hour after their misadventure on the third floor discussing what the creature could be hiding - and _why_ , exactly, it was hidden at Hogwarts.

Hermione had a few ideas but knew she'd need to spend some time in the library over the next few days before she could venture any solid guesses.

She'd tossed and turned all night, thoughts riotously flipping through the possible circumstances that would necessitate having a three-headed dog guarding something in a magical school. She knew, from her research before school began, that Professor Dumbledore was one of - if not _the_ \- most powerful wizard of their day, and it made sense to her that he should be the one in charge of protecting...whatever it was.

But what could it _be_?

XxxX

Draco stared at his bacon and eggs, shoving them around with his fork but not really eating much. His tired eyes drifted occasionally to the Gryffindor table, where Granger, Potter, and their sidekicks looked as exhausted and concerned as he felt.

A part of him wanted to go over and ask what they thought about the dog - if it could even be called that - and whatever was beneath the trapdoor beneath it - but thought better of it.

It was probably safer not to know.

Now he just had to convince his rebellious thoughts that was actually true.

XxxX

Hermione didn't think she'd ever studied so much in her life. She had spent the past week poring over obscure texts to figure out what the three-headed dog might be guarding, but she had had only managed to compile an excessively long list of things that were rare, highly-sought-after, or extremely expensive (or some combination of all three) in the wizarding world. Cross-referencing those with her list of things that could be potentially harmful in the hands of someone with impure intentions gave her a much shorter list to go on, she supposed, but they really still had no idea what was beneath that trapdoor. She had been up until well past midnight the night before, trying to narrow down the possibilities further, when she had fallen asleep in bed with a book on her face.

As much as she loved the printed word, she was not a fan of waking up to find drool and ink smudged all over her cheek.

Her face burned with embarrassment until she realised that her bed curtains were tightly shut. She opened them a crack and was relieved to see that her roommates had already left for the day. She quickly fixed her book as much as she could, looking up spells for cleaning and drying charms and trying not to feel disappointed when some of the drool damage couldn't be reversed. When the book was safely hidden away once more, she hurried to shower and dress. She didn't want to go down to breakfast with wet hair hanging around her face - or deal with the mushroom cloud of frizz it was sure to become as it dried during the day's classes. Instead, she pulled it back into a pair of french braids and allowed herself a moment of homesickness as she remembered how many times her mum had braided her bushy curls back away from her face over the years keeping it out of the way during countless hours of reading and projects.

Her eyes stung with tears, but she blinked them back, not giving in to the temptation to mope.

After all, it was her birthday _._

Deciding her appearance was as presentable as it was going to get while running on so little sleep, she made her way down to the common room. It was fairly empty, and she didn't see Neville. She knew she'd slept in a bit later than usual after staying up so late reading and assumed he'd gone down to breakfast already. Sighing, she made sure she had everything she needed for class and slipped out through the portrait hole.

The walk to the Great Hall was unusually quiet, save for the occasional passing of fellow late-comers or those already headed to class early. She was normally part of the latter, but she knew there was still plenty of time for breakfast and tried not to worry.

When Hermione finally arrived at the Gryffindor table, she quickly noticed that Neville was already happily seated between Dean and Seamus. Her heart sank, and she immediately felt silly for being disappointed. After all, it wasn't like Neville _knew_ it was her birthday. She hadn't brought it up for fear that it would cause a rift in their easy, comfortable friendship if he felt obligated to buy her a gift or celebrate her big day when their friendship was so new.

Sitting down on the other side of the table a few seats down, she suddenly wished she had.

She was just putting the finishing touches on her pancakes - indulging in berries and whipped cream on top for the special occasion - when owls started swooping into the room with the post.

"Mail's here!" Seamus chirped.

Bird after bird swept down from the opening in the rafters, owls of all shapes and sizes filling the air with the sounds of fluttering wings, affectionate hoots, and indignant squawks. Hermione's eyes were instantly up and searching for Sirius' dark wings and distinctive yellow beak. After her second glance around the vast vaulted ceiling, her shoulders began to slump.

Had her parents...forgotten?

As the impossible thought crossed her mind, a bedraggled and exhausted Sirius made his way through the window. He beelined it straight for Hermione and cooed his hello as he plopped onto the Gryffindor table. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of the small mountain of gifts attached to the bird. "Mum and Dad should have split this into two trips for you!" He hooted his agreement before his eyes fell shut. Hermione gently stroked his head as he ruffled his feathers to get more comfortable. She giggled at the sight of her familiar sleeping amidst the trappings of a busy Hogwarts breakfast but felt that he more than deserved a nap after bringing her gifts all the way from home.

When she was certain he was asleep, she turned her attention back to the gifts in front of her. She took a moment to savour the love that the presents represented, feeling her eyes grow damp for the second time that morning - this time for a much happier reason. Swiping away a tear, she set to work.

The first few gifts were easy to guess, as familiar as she was with the way a book looked and felt wrapped in paper. She skimmed through the first few pages of each one, her heart lifting at the prospect of new things to learn and new worlds to explore. Books never seemed to get old to her, and she relished the joy that came from having parents who knew her well enough to exclusively buy her titles she didn't already own.

The next oddly-shaped package was a thrown together heap of chocolate of all types and sizes, tied together with a bundle of string before being wrapped haphazardly in paper. Hermione was certain this gift had been wrapped by her father, and though the gift wasn't much to look at, her heart glowed with the warmth of knowing just how much her father adored her. She knew he hated wrapping gifts - because he was absolutely pants at it - and the fact that he had done so for her gave the gift extra meaning.

The last gift of the bunch was small, and she wasn't sure why she'd saved it for last, aside from the fact that it was the most mysterious of the lot. She opened it to find a beautiful red velvet jewellery box and gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. As she started to lift the lid open, a small note fell out. She hurried to read it before she finished opening the box.

 _To our girl, on your special day,_

 _Know that we miss and love you. Home is too quiet without you and your zest for life._

 _Love,_

 _Mum and Dad_

 _P.S. We've always thought wolves were our favourite animal, but a little bird told us that you might have a thing for lions now._

She inhaled sharply and snatched the jewellery box back off the table. Flipping the lid the rest of the way open, she peered inside.

A dainty, golden lion was nestled in the box's velvet interior, attached to a thin golden chain. Hermione felt a giddy grin steal over her face as she remembered her previous letters discussing her new house and the animal that represented it. It was just a few weeks into the school year, but she was already proud to wear scarlet and gold.

"Ohhhh, that's beautiful!" The voice startled Hermione out of her reverent admiration of the beautiful necklace her parents had sent her, and she looked up quickly to see Lavender and Parvati staring at the gift from a few seats away. Hermione smiled at them, feeling a slight kinship for the first time with the obnoxiously girly witches that shared her dorm.

Lavender returned to her breakfast, rambling on about her latest birthday and the pair of amethyst earrings her parents had given her, explaining, "Because the stone looks lavender, you know?" Parvati smiled at Hermione before finishing her own breakfast.

Something in her chest unclenched just a bit at the girls' approval, even though Hermione hadn't realized she was seeking it.

She took the necklace out of the box and fitted it around her neck, taking a moment to decide whether she wanted it on top of or underneath her shirt. She tucked it into her collar for the time being, as close as possible to her heart. She found she would rather keep it hidden than share the special bond it signified with the rest of the school.

As she was tucking the last of the chain beneath her collar, she glanced up to see Neville looking at her oddly. His brow was furrowed, and his usual look of confusion was tinted with sadness. He finished talking to the friends seated on either side of him and said his goodbyes, making his way around the table to take a seat next to Hermione. She smiled shyly at him, suddenly feeling awkward about the gifts and pile of discarded paper scattered on the table in front of her.

Instead of remarking about the gifts of the mess, Neville simply said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione glanced back down at her breakfast, fiddling with her silverware, and suddenly felt like she had done something wrong. She shrugged. "I didn't want to make a big deal about it."

Neville scoffed gently, a smile finally coming to play at the corner of his lips. "'Course it's a big deal. There are too many hard days in life to not celebrate the good ones when they come."

He looked like he wanted to say more, and she tilted her head in question, hoping it would be enough prompting to convince him to speak. He looked unsure of himself. "We're friends, right?" he asked.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Of course!" she answered emphatically, nodding her head.

He nodded once, decisively. "Then we should tell each other things like this. Friends are there for each other."

Impulsively, Hermione threw her arms around her friend. "Honestly, just being my friend is all the gift I could ask for." She smiled sheepishly, hoping she hadn't embarrassed him further.

He laughed and shook his head. "I'm sure I can do better than that. Let's meet up after class tonight, yeah? I'll see you in the common room."

She nodded in agreement and finished her last few bites of breakfast before they swung their bags up onto their shoulders and headed off to class.

XxxX

The day's lessons went by quickly. After dinner, Hermione spent an hour in the library, then finally trudged back up to the common room, hoping to find Neville for a round of cards or just some time to sit and chat by the fire. The common room was full when she arrived, but a quick glance around the room showed that Neville was not there yet - or that he'd already gone up to bed.

She sighed, feeling bad that she hadn't prioritized spending time with her friend as he'd requested that morning.

She was about to head up to bed early herself, hoping to catch up on sleep, when the portrait swung open again behind her. Someone bumped into her back, nearly sending her tumbling out into the common room.

"Oh!" Neville's startled cry came as Hermione spun around. "Sorry, didn't see you there..." his voice trailed off as he realised who he had bumped into. Hermione smiled at him, and they both made their way further into the common room, away from the portrait hole and any potential encounters with others seeking entrance into the room.

Neville was holding something slightly hidden behind him, which kept him turned at an awkward angle away from Hermione as they tried to find a place to sit. When she had finally plopped down on one of the sofas, setting her bookbag on the floor beside her and turning to face him, he blushed, grinning sheepishly. "I would have found something better if you'd told me sooner," he explained, but this was the best I could do on short notice."

He pulled the hidden bundle from behind his back. Hermione was shocked for the second time that day by the gift she was given.

Neville held out a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Hermione recognized some of them from the hours she'd spent tending her mother's flower garden over the years but thought a few of them looked more like something out of a fairytale. One large bloom, in particular, was lazily twirling its petals to and fro, and Hermione sat mesmerized as she stared at its graceful dance. There were budding yellow roses scattered throughout the bouquet, and the symbolism of new friendship was not lost on Hermione. Her exhaustion must have been catching up with her, because she felt herself tear up again.

"Thank you, Neville. These are...perfect."

He smiled, clearly pleased that she liked them. They sat and chatted for a while longer until Hermione was yawning more than talking. Neville laughed and ushered her off to the stairway that led to the girls' dorms.

She used a large jar from her potions kit as a home for the flowers, smiling at them every so often as she readied for bed. When her head finally hit the pillow, she smiled sleepily and held the little lion charm of her necklace between her finger and thumb as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for waiting so patiently for this update. My betas and I had some real life stuff come up, and it gave me a chance to catch up on some other stories that I'm hoping to start posting soon. (I already have about 12 chapters for one of them, so I'm pretty stoked!) Anyway, I thought posting Hermione's birthday chapter on Hermione's canon birthday would be brilliant, so here we are. :) I hope you love it. I think Neville is just the cutest. I hope you like the chapter! Let me know what you think and what other parts of first year you're hoping to see in this version of the story. I love hearing from you guys. :)

I hope you like the chapter! Let me know what you think and what other parts of first year you're hoping to see in this version of the story. I love hearing from you guys. :)

Beta thanks to my girl, Mahawna!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The walk to the Whomping Willow seemed much longer without Professor McGonagall leading the way. Hermione thought of the Transfiguration Professor's unusually smug face as she'd watched a school owl deliver Harry's new broom - a flashy, new Nimbus 2000, whatever that meant - the day after Hermione's birthday. She had tried not to take offence that her own birthday had been ignored by practically everyone when the next day had been " _celebrate Gryffindor's new seeker and his shiny broom"_ day.

She shook her head, drawing her thoughts back to the present. For the first time in years, Hermione found herself feeling nervous about the full moon. The last time she'd felt this way was when the Ministry had installed the cage and reinforced the wards in the barn that housed her transformations. She'd been a little worried that the wolf might not take well to the changes; the thought of throwing herself against rows of metal bars all night had been terrifying. Everything had been fine, though. She had found a chew toy, played a bit, and slept - as usual. She hoped this night wouldn't be too different, and she _really_ hoped that Professor McGonagall was right about Animagi being safe around werewolves in their animal forms. The thought of having a friend around again - like she had for her very first full moon, back when she was too young to remember - made the whole experience of being the sole werewolf at Hogwarts a lot less lonely.

When she finally got to the Whomping Willow, she stopped just outside the reach of the tree's thrashing, practising the wand movement twice before sending the special Stunning Spell - that she suspected had been invented for this specific purpose - toward the knot on the tree's trunk. The tree ceased even the faintest hint of movement and the hidden door swung open. Hermione quickly made her way down into the tunnel, shutting the door behind her, casting a _Lumos_ to light her way.

She wasn't sure what time the professor would be able to join her, so she assumed she would be starting the night out on her own. It seemed wise to leave her wand and other belongings outside the reach of her wolf, so she changed soon after she exited the trap door, leaving herself in only a pair of old panties and a camisole. Normally, she would have waited in the nude, but she didn't like the idea of running into her favourite teacher without a scrap of clothing on. Hopefully, they could figure out a system that would allow her to change and transform without embarrassing herself in the future. She stashed her clothes and things on the steps beneath the trapdoor, before closing it and wandering around for a while. She'd come to the shack early, just in case she was stopped on her way down or ran late for any other reason. She didn't dare risk being anywhere else in the school or on the grounds when her inner wolf made itself known.

She finally sat down on the shredded settee, closing her eyes and trying to calm the tremors in her bones and muscles as they prepared to shift to their alternate form. Hermione took a moment to wonder if Animagi endured the same pain each time they shifted, she finally decided that could not be the case. It seemed as if there would be even less of them in existence than there were if the magic caused one such unbearable pain each time it was used. Regardless, she found herself determining to ask Professor McGonagall at the next available opportunity.

She finished that thought just as the full moon was upon her.

The nausea, fatigue, and headaches in the last few days leading up to the full moon were manageable. Chocolate truly did help, and she found that getting extra rest and eating well made it so that she only felt _somewhat_ ill. However, the pain of the transformation itself was something she knew she would never become fully accustomed to.

Her bones shattered and reformed, sinews separating and reattaching as her skeleton rearranged itself and fur grew from every pore. Even her eyes burned as the lupine senses took over. She cried out as she always did, the pain leaving her body in the form of a ragged scream that ended as a pained howl. Her insides rearranged themselves, and the broken parts of her skin healed over, leaving her in a panting heap on the floor.

She was exhausted, but the new sights and smells around her urged her to explore. She paced around the house several times, smelling and licking things as necessary. Hints of something oddly familiar wafted from different parts of the house, but she couldn't place the smells or the memories.

When she came back to the bedroom, she curled up on the shredded mattress, content to sleep. As her eyes were drifting closed, a sleek tabby cat entered the room. The wolf's ears flicked forward, and she sat up, intent on assessing the other animal in the room; sensing no threat, she became curious.

A sense of friendship came from the cat, and she hummed contentedly when the little feline came over to tentatively rub her head against the werewolf's neck. The young werewolf was already exhausted and simply huffed a quiet hello, nuzzling her head against the cat's before curling up on the bed again and began drifting off. She was only dimly aware of the cat keeping vigil nearby as she allowed sleep to claim her.

After the cat was satisfied that the wolf wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, she turned in a circle and curled up a few feet away, resting her head on her paws, allowing herself to join the wolf in slumber.

XxxX

When Hermione woke, she was already in the hospital wing, clad in hospital-issue pyjamas, with a white sheet tucked up to her chin. She had expected to wake up in the Shrieking Shack but found she was grateful she didn't have to do her usual routine of waking up naked, finding her clothes, and making her way back home in the cold light of early morning.

The sound of the hospital wing doors opening startled her, and she quickly turned her head to see Neville peeking around the edge. He looked worried, so Hermione summoned the energy to smile at him, hoping it was more of a reassuring smile than a grimace. She felt as bone-weary and achy as she normally did after the full moon but had suffered no other injuries. It seemed her wolf approved of its new accommodations. By the time Neville made his way over to her hospital bed, Hermione had eased herself into a reclining position, propped up by a few pillows. He pulled up a chair from the wall nearby and sank down into it, saying, "I was worried about you when I couldn't find you after dinner yesterday. I went to find Professor McGonagall, and she said you hadn't been feeling well. Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded. "I'll be fine after some rest. Madam Pomfrey let me spend the night, but I'm feeling much better now."

The mediwitch bustled over just then, saying, "Speaking of which, here are your potions, dear."

The young witch was unfamiliar with the potions and looked at them quizzically but tossed them back, grimacing slightly at the taste. The pounding in her head instantly eased, and the achy, feverish feeling that sent chills down her spine every few minutes was suddenly more bearable. She mustered up a real smile for the nurse, grateful for the extra help.

 _I could get used to this kind of special treatment after the full moon_ , she thought.

She was touched that Neville cared enough to come looking for her and that someone - she assumed Professor McGonagall - had taken the time to bring her back from the shack after she had resumed her human form. She wasn't surprised she had slept through being transported such a great distance, as she always slept like the dead for a day or two after the moon. Having her body completely rearrange itself twice over the course of one night tended to make her feel like she had some catching up to do in the sleep department.

Hermione did her best to reassure her friend that she was, in fact, alright. But his level of concern caused her to worry. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to keep her condition under wraps if he was already this concerned after just a single full moon. She might have to do a better job covering for herself when she left in the future, claiming she was just going to bed early or that she would be studying in her room or some such thing to keep him from looking for her before breakfast the next morning. As it was, the potions helped enough that she felt up to going down to eat with Neville and the other Gryffindors. She sent Neville out into the hall to wait while she quickly dressed before she pocketed her wand from the bedside table and traipsed out to meet him.

Neville seemed to be keeping a close eye on her for the rest of the day, but he didn't bring up their visit to the hospital wing in front of the other students, keeping his concerns to himself. But Hermione was aware of his eyes on her as she ate and after as she went about her usual school day. She felt better and better over the next few days, and her improved health seemed to ease his concern so things could go back to normal. Hermione spent less and less time focusing on her research regarding the trapdoor in the third floor corridor and whatever the three-headed dog might be hiding. But she kept at it in her free time, borrowing book after book from the library to read through, hoping that one of them might finally lead her to an answer.

XxxX

As she fell easily back into the routine of life at Hogwarts, the weeks passed quickly. The repetitive nature of sleep, meals in the Great Hall, and the occasional more exciting event - like Seamus Finnigan's continual stream of explosion-related mishaps - helped her push through the homesickness. It wasn't long before her second full moon at school was upon her. It was the week before Halloween, and she was surprised by how much the wizarding world celebrated the holiday. She'd overheard many ghost stories in the common room over the past few days. Decorations were being put up, and more pranks than usual were being pulled. She heard Fred and George Weasley crowing their success over teaming up with Peeves to spread a powder over the Great Hall that turned everyone into a pumpkin for the first ten minutes of breakfast earlier that week. Hermione shook her head. She didn't see the appeal of jokes like that, but it _had_ been rather brilliant magic.

She excused herself from dinner, saying she was going to work on the research project before turning in early and made her way from the Great Hall, hoping Neville wouldn't follow her. He turned back to his conversation with some of the other Gryffindor boys and didn't seem to notice anything funny about her disappearance.

Her walk to the Shrieking Shack was easier this time since it felt more familiar. And though the transformation was as painful as ever, her wolf was happier this time, taking out its extra energy by pouncing around the house, rolling about on the dusty floor and yipping at her feline companion who sat by quietly and refused to join in her shenanigans.

When the light of the full moon broke through the window, she howled her approval repeatedly, relishing in the draw of the moon. It took several hours to wear herself out enough to fall asleep.

XxxX

The next morning found her in the hospital wing once again. Her visitor this time was Professor McGonagall. She looked almost as tired as Hermione felt but smiled at her young charge. "How are you feeling, Miss Granger?"

"I'll be alright," Hermione said, voice slightly raw from barking and howling so much throughout the night.

"You were rather excitable last night," McGonagall said, a wry smile curving her lips.

Hermione looked abashed. "Erm...sorry about that. I don't really know how to control it. Some nights are...busier than others."

McGonagall chuckled. "Busy is one way to put it. I'm glad the moons seem to be easier on you than they were on the student who used the shack years ago. If they continue to go this well, I don't know that you will require my assistance any longer - though you are, of course, welcome to it, if you so desire."

Hermione thought about it. "It might be nice to have help for one more moon to make sure that I am comfortable before I have to go through the night alone in a new place, but I think I should be fine after that," she said, smiling through her exhaustion.

"Of course. I'm happy to help in any way I can."

By the time Hermione made her way down - a little late - for breakfast, the chatter was filled with discussions of the howling that had been heard the night before by some of the older students during Astronomy Class. They said it sounded like it had been coming from Hogsmeade - and, more specifically, the Shrieking Shack. This rumour only seemed to spawn more horror stories from the students - Muggle and wizarding tales alike. Hermione rolled her eyes but sat to eat her breakfast, choosing a spot between Neville and Lavender, who was squealing in fright at a story Oliver Wood was telling across the table.

Neville seemed to be listening to the story as well. As he quietly ate, Hermione smiled at her clumsy, forgetful friend as he exhibited his perfect, pureblood manners, cutting his food into tiny bites and dabbing his mouth every few bites. He didn't remark on the story, choosing instead to pause his methodic eating to smile at Hermione and say, "Good morning. Find anything interesting in your research last night?"

Barely remembering her excuse from the night before in time, she shook her head. "There are so many books in the library, but I'll find the right one eventually."

Shaking his head at her nonchalant and utterly ridiculous answer, he grinned as he went back to his food. "Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?"

XxxX

Remus woke on the cold, dusty wood of the cellar floor, covered in bruises. His nose was bleeding, and he had a new gash along his ribs. He moaned in agony as he rolled from his wounded side onto his back, tears springing to his eyes from the pain.

He hadn't had a full moon this bad in ages.

Gingerly lifting his hand, he whispered, " _Accio wand_ ," ignoring the shaking of his arm as he waited for the length of cypress to arrive from its hiding place in a narrow, sunken shelf above the wolf's reach. It took a little longer than usual, and he sighed in frustration. He was used to functioning in a permanently exhausted state, but it wasn't often that he was so bad off that his magic was affected. He pointed his wand at the wound along his ribs, silently begging Merlin to give him the power to heal it.

The speed the muscle and skin knit back together was so slow Remus was breaking out in a sweat from the effort by the end of it. He was immensely grateful it had been inflicted by something in the cellar instead of Moony's own claws or teeth. Those ones didn't respond to healing spells. Wounds from Dark creatures never did.

Remus sighed and cast an _Aguamenti_ straight into his mouth, far too exhausted to get up and make his usual pot of post-moon tea.

As he drifted in and out of sleep, draped only in a tattered blanket on the gouged wooden floors of the cellar of his childhood home, his thoughts wandered to his daughter. A day didn't go by that he didn't think of her. She had been at Hogwarts for nearly two months now. Moony seemed to be as aware of the fact as Remus was, spending the entirety of the full moon throwing himself against the cellar doors in an attempt to get to his cub. Remus wasn't sure what that was about since he hadn't acted that way since the early days on his own after that first, horrible Halloween night ten years before. Moony hated being alone, that much was obvious. As soon as Remus knew where his daughter would be during the full moons - assuming she used the Shrieking Shack, like he had - Moony had done everything in his power to escape and find her.

He was tempted to send her a letter or gift - anything to help himself feel like he'd done something right by the girl. Something to connect to the little bit of pack he had left in the world. The thought of sending her a Christmas gift had crossed his mind many times recently. He was torn but thought he'd probably err on the side of caution when the holiday finally rolled around. She had two loving parents - what use could she have for the broken man who had given her the gift of magic and the curse of lycanthropy?

* * *

A/N: I don't know who nominated this story for the 2017 Marauder Medals (best WIP), but I could freaking kiss you! I am thrilled, honored, and just about every other happy feeling I can think of. I am up for five different nominations over there (including best up and coming author...wut?), so go check them out! My amazing betas for this story, Mahawna and Synoir, are also nominated in various categories, as are some of my other writer friends. Go read all the things! They're amazing.

I hope those of you who wanted Remus to send Hermione a birthday gift liked the little nod to that here. He doesn't actually know her birthday, the way things worked out in earlier chapters. He potentially _could_ have looked it up in her file, but he was far more worried about finding her to save her life.

Also, take a moment to drool over the AMAZING cover art that was gifted to me by Fine Mournings. I am absolutely in love with it! Swoon... In case you didn't know, my fancast for Remus is James McAvoy. ;)

Thanks for your patience with the slower updates the past couple of weeks. I've been writing like crazy on a few other (yet to be posted) stories, so hopefully those will be up soon! Next up...Halloween!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Professor Flitwick stood on his perch of enlarged textbooks, ready to start Charms Class. Hermione was sandwiched between Ron and Neville, the close quarters making her feel claustrophobic. Hermione and Neville shared a desk in most classes, but Ron plopped down between her and Harry before Neville had a chance, forcing him to sit next to her but partner up with someone else. She offered him an apologetic smile and decided to keep an eye on him to see if he needed any help with the day's lesson. He often did, but he seemed to have more of an issue with self-confidence than actual lack of magical ability. As soon as she sent a ready smile and a kind word his way, he was usually able to figure it out pretty quickly.

Clearing his throat, the tiny Charms Professor began. "Good morning, class!" They chimed their return greetings. "Today we are going to be working on a very useful little spell - the Levitation Charm. I'm sure you've read all about it in the assigned reading from last time, but let's review a bit. It works on all different types and sizes of objects, though different spells should be used on humans and other living things. It is easiest to start with something small and light." He flicked his wrist, sending a pile of white on the corner of his desk fluttering in all directions. A snowy feather settled in front of each student. "The incantation is, ' _Wingardium Leviosa.'_ The wand movement is as follows: swish and flick!"

The crowd whispered in excitement, many of them picking their wands up to start trying. Flitwick lowered his wand as he finished the lecture, so Hermione took that as her cue to give it a go. Nearly everyone was saying the incantation wrong. Hermione rolled her eyes and felt a twinge of frustration. How was it that so many children who grew up surrounded by magic could be such dunderheads when it came to their magical education? Even Malfoy, the ever-loving definition of a pureblood prince born with a silver spoon in his mouth, didn't have the pronunciation _quite_ right. She sighed, drawing her attention back to her own work.

Her wand was raised to cast the spell when Ron started jabbing his wand repeatedly in the direction of his feather. Hermione started to fear for her own safety and quickly put a stop to the movement. "Slow down! You're going to hurt someone. It's like this." She showed him the movement and proper pronunciation of the incantation, sending her own feather rising steadily toward the ceiling. Smiling in satisfaction, she looked back to find the redhead glaring daggers at her.

"I know you love to show off, but can you just let me figure it out myself?" He huffed, turning his back to her as much as possible with their shoulders nearly touching.

Offended that her help had been so rudely received, Hermione huffed but continued sending her feather higher and higher, revelling in the fact that she was the only student who had managed to perform the charm correctly.

Glancing up, she caught Malfoy's silvery eyes on her, regarding her with a thoughtful look, his brow furrowed. He glanced away before she did, looking back at his feather. He practised the wand movement once more before adding the incantation, saying it properly this time. His feather started to rise, and Hermione found herself glowing inside, just a bit, at the acknowledgement that she had done it right and that her help had at least been received well by _someone._

Her thoughts were quickly diverted away from Draco when an explosion sounded from a few seats away. Without looking, Hermione knew it was Seamus, and she sighed. The boy was an absolute menace with a wand. He bragged about his penchant for pyrotechnics and matching dragon heartstring core of his wand to anyone who would listen, but Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Ollivander had done the unthinkable and made a mistake by matching up the boy with this particular wand. Even though his accidental magic helped regrow his eyebrows and hair within hours of each explosion, he still spent more time looking singed than not.

Flitwick took a moment to clean up the mess before turning to regale Hermione with praise, also commending Draco for his efforts. The beaming smile on Hermione's face only lasted a moment, though, as Ron grumpily muttered, "Just have to be the best at everything, don't you?"

She ignored him, pushing the desire to snap back at him away and turning to help Neville with the spell. He always appreciated her help.

Or he at least had the good sense to realise he needed it and not turn it away.

She knew her mother hen, meddlesome ways got out of hand sometimes, but it was all done with the best intentions. That made it hurt all the more when she overheard Ronald griping about her superiority complex in the courtyard after class.

"Can you believe her? Not only does she have to be the best at _everything_ , no! She has to rub your face in it, too. I'm surprised Neville even puts up with her, honestly. She doesn't deserve him."

She'd been walking a pace behind the redhead and his dorm mates, Dean, Seamus, and Harry. Neville had scurried off to check on a Herbology project before dinner and was not there to overhear the cutting words, much to Hermione's relief. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes anyway, and she rushed through the cluster of boys, not caring one bit that she hit the Weasley prat so hard in the shoulder that he nearly fell over as she made her escape.

He still had the nerve to holler, "Excuse you!"

Too much space separated her from the boys for her to hear the rest of their conversation, but she didn't want to hear it anyway. The thought that all of them might agree with Ronald made her chest ache with the familiar pain of rejection.

She collapsed on the floor of the girl's lavatory, too upset to care about the cleanliness of the time-worn surfaces there. Tears blurred her vision, and she swiped at them angrily.

From her earliest memories, her parents had told her that she could do, be, and achieve _anything_ that she set her mind to. They'd taken her swottiness and over-achiever attitude in stride, even proclaiming their unending pride of her pristine marks in school and always offering their shoulders to cry on when she inadvertently alienated yet another friend with her uncontrollable desire to help her fellow students achieve in school at the same level she did.

Her reputation had preceded her, and she gradually came to be ignored by everyone but the most success-driven students in her classes. Looking back, she thought that they probably would have been Ravenclaws if they had come with her to Hogwarts. They were happy to spend their free time in the library and pair up with perfectionistic Hermione on group projects and the like.

It had been a relief to think she could leave her reputation behind at her Muggle school and start fresh at Hogwarts. Neville didn't seem to care one knut that she was a swot. He asked politely about her research, accompanied her to the library more often than not, and even asked for help with classwork when he needed it.

Even Harry had seemed thrilled that she was going to take over the responsibility of researching the mysterious, little package that the three-headed dog was guarding on the third floor.

But Ronald. Ugh, she could just slap the smirk that accompanied his ugly words right off his freckled face. And she was not naturally prone to violence, so that was saying something. She didn't feel like he was a genuinely _bad_ person, but he had a serious case of overlooked middle-child syndrome with a chip on his shoulder to go with it. He wanted to be good at everything, well-liked, cool, not hiding in the shadows of any of his older siblings...all at the same time _and_ without any help. Hermione wasn't sure how accepting her assistance in class was a bad thing in his mind, but she was absolutely certain she wouldn't be trying to help him with anything else anytime soon.

Her pity party went unnoticed as she stayed locked in the first floor bathroom. No one came to check on her, and she was suddenly grateful that she didn't have any close female friends so her tears could flow, undisturbed.

That is, she was grateful until she heard a dim thud in the hall outside the loo.

The floor seemed to quake, no small feat in an ancient castle made of stone and reinforced by magic. Furrowing her brow, tears momentarily forgotten, she wondered if perhaps this was another prank pulled by Peeves or the Weasley twins. She wouldn't put it past either party, especially on the night of Halloween.

When the noise got louder, creeping ever closer, her curiosity was piqued. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or flattered that she'd been picked as the brunt of a joke.

Cracking the door open, she made her way out of the stall, drying her eyes and hoping she didn't look too miserable as she prepared to investigate the commotion.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom burst open, allowing a bloody _enormous_ creature to stumble its way in. Its legs looked like two tree trunks. Covered in rough, greenish-grey skin, it was possibly the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. Dragging an oversized club along at its side, it looked equal parts terrifying and confused.

Not a good combination.

Creeping backwards, trying to remain inconspicuous, Hermione stared at its hideous, filthy face and thought she was _pretty sure_ it was just a common mountain troll. She'd read all about them, of course, but looking at an illustration of one and coming face to face with the actual thing were completely different experiences. As much as she liked to mix hands-on learning with her time in the library, she rather preferred the book version of this one. Her panicking brain supplied her with random facts on the species, including the notion that they were usually quite stupid and only violent if provoked or faced off against other ' _dark creatures_.'

Though Hermione didn't think of herself as such, werewolves were unfortunately lumped into that category.

 _Bugger._

The troll staggered forward slowly, causing Hermione's heart to pound loudly in her chest as she took refuge in the bathroom stall once more. The club slammed into the wood of the loo stalls, splintering the top half of the row as if it was cutting through butter instead of solid objects, sending planks and broken bits raining down on top of Hermione's crouched form.

Lifting her head, she peeked out to try and come up with an escape plan. Instead of seeing an empty doorway, her gaze was met by that of Neville, Harry, and Ron. Neville looked as furious as he was terrified, and she wondered if he'd heard about Ron's comments from earlier in the day. She didn't really understand what he saw in her, but she was more and more grateful for his unflagging friendship every day.

Lost in that thought, she nearly missed it when Harry shouted, "Hermione, get down!"

Her animal instincts sent her to the floor, body flattened to the flagstones with arms raised to cover her head just in time. The troll sent another sweeping blow to the stalls, destroying what was left of the dividers and shattering the porcelain and wood that dared to stand in its way as it sought to take out the perceived threat.

Merlin, Hermione had never wished so much that she wasn't a werewolf in her entire life.

Darting out from under the carnage, she sought refuge beneath one of the sinks, knowing there was nothing in the room that could keep her safe but not daring to try to make a run past the troll to reach the safety of the hall. She looked at the boys with tears of fear in her eyes, begging one of them to help. Harry, the only one of them raised as a Muggle, started throwing chunks of wood at the troll in an attempt to distract it. Ron quickly followed suit, adding in the occasional shout of, "Oi! You tosser! Leave her alone!"

No matter how mad she'd been at the git earlier, she was infinitely grateful for his help in that moment. Neville was staring at the troll with a look of determination on his face, and Hermione was shocked when he leapt onto its shoulders, beating him on the face and head with his fists as he clung to stay on with his legs.

Clumsy as the Longbottom heir was, he managed to accidentally put his wand up the troll's nose.

That only seemed to make things worse. The troll paused its werewolf-destroying rampage to swat at Neville with its free hand, shattering sinks and mirrors with the club as it flailed to and fro. Harry joined the fray, grabbing onto the troll's arm and holding on for dear life. Hermione couldn't bear the thought of losing either of her new friends this way, so she turned an imploring gaze to Ron, the only other person in the room who seemed to understand that something more than physical force was going to be required to take the monster down. At the same time, Harry yelled, "Ron! You've got to stop it!"

Looking terrified and powerless in the face of the troll's rage, Ron choked out, "How?"

Hoping against hope that he wouldn't be offended, Hermione yelled, "Swish and flick!"*

Whipping his wand out of his pocket, Ron followed her prompting, not even the slightest hint of annoyance in his gaze as he played the hero, making all his wildest dreams come true.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The club slipped easily from the troll's hand, causing it to pause its movements for a long, confused moment.

Ron's grin nearly broke his face in half. "Brilliant."

The word sent the club plummeting back down, directly onto the troll's bald head.

It stood, stunned, for a long moment before its eyelids fluttered closed, dropping Harry as it crashed to its knees, giving Neville a few seconds to scramble down from his perch on its shoulders before it toppled over altogether.

With a look of distaste, Neville retrieved his troll-bogey-covered wand. The other boys groaned in shared disgust.

"Do you think it's dead?" Hermione asked, voice quivering.

"Don't really care to stick around and find out," Neville muttered, cleaning his wand on the hem of his robes as he stepped further away from the troll.

The four students all stood staring dubiously at the fallen creature, unsure of what to do next, when Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell entered the room, all poised for action with wands aloft until they realised that the troll had already been taken care of...more or less. Professor McGonagall's wide eyes flew over all of them, ensuring that no one had been hurt, and stayed on Hermione's face the longest, a look of something beyond the girl's comprehension hidden in the professor's wizened features.

Turning to the boys, McGonagall started in on them. "What in the name of Merlin and Morgana did the three of you think you were _doing_?"

Thinking for only a split second, Hermione cut in, "This was my fault, Professor." Her eyes implored the Transfiguration Professor to hear the deeper meaning of her words, even as she lied through her teeth. "I'd read about trolls and thought I could help. Obviously, I misjudged things." Nodding to the boys, she added, "They saved my life."

A tiny nod made Hermione think that Professor McGonagall knew that she was doing her best to offer a possible explanation while really attempting to hide the fact that she was a werewolf from everyone else in the room.

Why else would the troll have become so aggressive?

Fortunately, the other professors and the Gryffindor boys thought nothing of her excuse, and Neville and the others grinned when Hermione's five point loss was made up two-fold when each of them received five points of their own for their help in protecting their housemate.

Quirrell looked around nervously, as usual, and Snape looked downright murderous.

The smell of blood caught Hermione's attention, and she searched for the source of it, finally landing on Snape's leg. Harry followed her gaze, eyes widening at the sight of the blood staining the Potions Professor's trousers. He whipped his robes over the injury and stalked from the room, leaving Hermione and Harry to wonder just what had wounded Professor Snape.

Hermione was beyond relieved when Professor McGonagall broke the awkward silence to escort all four of them to Gryffindor Tower, leaving the subject of the troll behind them.

She would be more than happy to never speak of it again.

Slumping down onto the plush sofas of the common room, Neville seemed to be the only one who'd held onto his bad mood after their near-death experience. He looked at Ron, meeting the redhead's eyes with a pointed look before jerking his chin at Hermione.

Blushing, Ron mumbled, "Erm, I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Hermione." When Neville's death glare only intensified, he added, "I get enough mothering from my own mom, not to mention my brothers, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Mouth dropping open in shock, Hermione couldn't do more than stare at Ron, gaze slowly turning to Neville in question. He looked extremely pleased with himself, grinning at Hermione.

Normally, she would have been frustrated that someone had tried to fight her battles for her.

But, just this once, she allowed herself to feel taken care of, knowing her best friend wouldn't let anyone speak poorly of her behind her back.

Her smile was a little strained as she thanked Ron, but the quick grin she offered Neville was sincere as she mouthed, " _Thank you._ "

* * *

A/N: Obviously, much of this chapter was borrowed from canon then given my own little TLL twist. This particular part is the only bit that I copied exactly, but I just wanted to give credit where it's due. Jo is queen and all that. ;)

Thank you for all your kind reviews and continued support for the Marauder Medals! Words can't express how grateful I am for all the lovely things you've had to say. (Plus it doesn't hurt the muse any to hear how much you're loving the things I post, so there's that. Haha) If you want to vote for this fic, me (as Best Up and Coming Author), Time Traveller's Disease (as Best One-Shot/Drabble and Best Remus), or Prongs and the Blue Fairy Potion (as best James), visit here: tinyurl DOT com / yblfyctm (take out the spaces and change the DOT to a period. :) ) No pressure! But I'd love you forever. Haha

Beta thanks to Mahawna, as always! She's the best. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The dynamics of the first year Gryffindors' friendships changed over the next week. Neville wasn't just Hermione's forgetful, self-conscious shadow. They were equals. Nothing about each of their personalities or daily activities had really changed, but things were different all the same.

As mismatched and different as they all were, surviving a rampaging troll had turned them into their own little team now, and that felt good.

When the morning of Harry's first Quidditch match came, he was a mess. All of his friends and teammates urged him to eat some food, but they didn't push it when his pallor took on a hint of green. He still sat beside them through breakfast, reading his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and trying not to hyperventilate. Professor Snape came up behind him, snatching the book out of his hands and glaring down his beak-like nose at the boy.

"Five points for getting food on a library book, Potter. A little book like this isn't going to help your chances of catching the snitch today, anyway." He smirked cruelly. "Good luck."

Limping away, Hermione and Harry both caught sight of the professor's gait.

"Did you notice the blood on Snape's leg the night the troll got in?" Harry asked, realising that he'd somehow been so preoccupied with Quidditch practice and homework that they'd never talked about it.

Hermione nodded. "I'd totally forgotten until now." Something about nearly dying at the hands of a troll had made even _her_ forgetful.

"I've been thinking...what if he was trying to get past that three-headed dog on the third floor? What if he's trying to get at whatever it's guarding? He could have let the troll in as a distraction."

The thought made Hermione's heart sink in her chest. "I'll get back to the research. We have to figure this out."

Harry nodded as Oliver Wood came up behind him, pulling the younger boy from his seat to get suited up for the game.

When Hermione saw Harry again, he was walking out onto the field with his Nimbus 2000, far more shiny and new than anything the other players were flying. Both teams took to the air, and the first match of the season - Gryffindor vs. Slytherin - began.

The stands were decked in scarlet, gold, emerald, and silver. Hermione stood in the Gryffindor stands between Neville and Ron, cheering until her throat hurt. Harry circled around above the constant movement of the chasers, beaters, and keepers, but Hermione spared a glance for him every few minutes with her binoculars. The game was far more violent than she'd expected. She was vaguely reminded of several rugby games her father had let her watch with him before she'd decided sports were far less interesting than books in her early childhood. The Slytherin team played dirty, that was certain.

The match was tied 20-20 when Hermione looked up to check on Harry again. Hagrid noticed the strange movements at the same time she did, asking what he thought he was doing up there. She noticed that he was dancing about on his broom, being constantly flung from side to side. Confused as to why his smooth flying had been interrupted by the jagged movements, she scanned the rest of the players and the crowd, her gaze stopping only when she saw Professor Snape staring at Harry, mumbling something that looked an awful lot like a spell, not even attempting to hide his face as he did so.

Not wanting to drag Hagrid into the drama, she pulled Ron and Neville aside. "Snape's doing something to Harry's broom! I'll take care of it."

Off like a shot, she scrambled down the steps and around to the other side of the stands where the professors sat. It took her an agonizingly long moment to locate her target from beneath the stands. Staying out of sight, she muttered the first spell that came to mind, sending a bluebell flame dancing out from her wand onto the hem of Snape's soot-black robes. He was undeterred, continuing his quiet mumbling until one of the other professors yelled, "Your robes are on fire!" and started swatting at the flames to put them out. Snape and several other professors were unseated in the ruckus, and that gave Hermione the chance she needed to escape while giving Harry the chance to regain control of his broom before speeding off after the fluttering snitch.

Hermione ran to the nearest break in the stands as fast as her legs would carry her, pushed on by the sounds of the stands above her erupting with cheers and gasps every few seconds as the seekers battled for possession of the tiny winged ball.

She finally burst forth from the smothering wall of fabric and wood, eyes latching instantly onto Harry's form as he flew forward, standing on his broom handle, and stepped just a hair too far, sending himself tumbling head over heels.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she couldn't tear her eyes away. After a long, painful moment, Harry stood, hands clenched over his mouth and stomach as if he was finally going to be ill like he'd been threatening at breakfast. Finally, he hunched forward, releasing the snitch from his mouth into his hands.

Stunned, Hermione stood in silence until she realised just what this meant. Then she screamed loud enough for her parents to hear her back home, dancing around and waving her hands in the air like her father always did when his favourite teams won.

She'd never admit it, but she decided sports might not be half bad if they were all as exciting as Quidditch.

XxxX

Hermione's research continued in earnest after a trip down to Hagrid's gave them the interesting tidbit that _Fluffy_ \- possibly the most absurd name ever imagined for a Cerberus - was guarding something dangerous that concerned Professor Dumbledore and one Nicolas Flamel. Hagrid was utterly convinced that Professor Snape couldn't have been trying to hurt Harry or get past Fluffy since he was one of the ones helping protect the mysterious object. Everything was one big contradiction, one she hoped more research would finally resolve.

Her next full moon went by as uneventfully as the first two had, and she informed Professor McGonagall that she thought she'd be fine to continue on alone and thanked her profusely for her help. It had made the transition to enduring her transformations at school much easier.

As the weather turned colder and drove everyone to stay as close as possible to the fireplaces in the common rooms and the parts of the library that had the best warming charms, Hermione noticed that Neville was spending an oddly large amount of time outside. It occurred to her that he might be avoiding her, but their friendship seemed as warm and comfortable as ever. Knowing that mentioning her concern to him came with the risk of looking like an idiot when he most likely just told her he was working on yet another Herbology project.

Merlin, did the boy love his plants.

She debated with herself over it as she made her way out to the Shrieking Shack for another full moon in early December. It was absolutely freezing, and even the beginner-level warming charm she'd cast didn't help keep the frigid winds from slicing through her coat, cloak, robes, and other layers. She was grateful for the busy thoughts that kept her from worrying about freezing to death and enduring her first transformation alone since she'd come to school.

The sight of the naked Whomping Willow brought a small smile to her face. It seemed to have a habit of swatting at anything brave (or stupid) enough to fly within hitting range, and Hermione had already borne witness to one of its snow-covered dances that sent white powder flying every which way. It's nakedness that night made her wonder just what had disturbed its peaceful slumber to cause it to shed its frosty coat this time.

What she didn't notice, in the midst of her musings, was the boy standing near the greenhouses, watching the lone figure disappear beneath the Whomping Willow with worried eyes.

XxxX

For the first time since she'd come to Hogwarts, Hermione woke up in the Shrieking Shack. She wasn't sure if it was because Professor McGonagall wasn't there to bring her up to the hospital wing, meaning she'd be in charge of getting back on her own from then on, or if she'd just woken up early enough that she has risen before anyone had time to move her.

She felt even more tired than she usually did after a transformation, and she wondered if the worry of what was going on with Neville had negatively affected her wolf. It had happened several times before, when very human concerns had caused her werewolf form to run and pace the night away, fighting at its restraints and trying to break free. This moon felt like those ones, and she tried to quiet the stubborn, worried voice that still wouldn't shut up about Neville and how something was definitely up with him.

Resolving to talk to him at her earliest convenience, Hermione sat up, feeling the charmed warming blanket she'd wrapped around herself slip down her shoulders, exposing her bare shoulders to the air. Waves of goose pimples ghosted across her flesh, and she quickly wrapped the blanket tighter around her before going to grab her clothes and wand from beneath the trapdoor.

Though the air was even colder than the night before, it felt good on her feverish skin. She slowly clambered through the tunnel and out of the door of the Whomping Willow, hoping she hadn't slept long enough that others would be out and about on the grounds. About halfway to the school, a booming voice sounded behind her, causing her to jump and nearly lose her footing on the snowy slope up to the castle.

"What're yer doin' out 'ere this time o' mornin', Hermione?" Hagrid asked. He seemed more excited to see a friendly face at an unusual hour than concerned or suspicious, so she forced her cheeks to lift in a small smile, hoping it was good enough to convince him.

"Hi, Hagrid. Just fancied an early morning walk, I suppose." She shrugged, wishing she'd thought to plan out a better alibi for her full moon activities.

"Lovely mornin', innit?" Hagrid asked, clapping her heartily on the shoulder and nearly sending her tumbling down into the snow.

Nodding, Hermione added, "The snow doesn't stay on the ground like this back home." She gestured weakly to the mounds of snow all around them, her attention stopping on the enormous fir tree Hagrid was dragging by a length of rope behind him.

"You look right tuckered out," Hagrid said, as if he'd just noticed.

Hermione was chagrined, dreading this vein of interrogation more than just about anything else in the world. "I didn't sleep very well last night. I've had some things on my mind." More like a monstrous, wolfy alter-ego making itself known last night when she should have been sleeping, but the added strain of her confusion about Neville's behaviour truly didn't help.

The half-giant looked almost scared. "Can't say I'm much fer advice, but I could give ye a ride back. I haven' done this in a month o' Sundays, o' course, but would ye like a ride up t'the school?"

Hermione wasn't sure what he meant by that, but the aches in her muscles and joints, the way her bones felt like they would crack with the least bit of exertion, caused her to nod.

"Hop on then!" Hagrid said, jerking a large thumb over his shoulder to indicate that he meant she should climb up onto the tree.

Looking at it quizzically, Hermione did as he asked, nestling between several branches and casting a Cushioning Charm, one she'd stolen from one of the more advanced Charms books in the library, and settled in. It was surprisingly comfortable with the help of magic, and she dozed peacefully as the tree made its way, swaying to and fro along the snow behind the Groundskeeper. The lack of movement when Hagrid reached the front steps woke Hermione, and she half-fell, half-climbed down from her little treetop nest, brushing snow and pine needles from her hair.

"Thanks for the ride, Hagrid," she said, offering him another weak smile.

"Would yer like ter help me set it up?" he offered, gesturing to the Great Hall where a half-dozen similarly enormous trees were already set up. Professor Flitwick and a smattering of older students stood around the room, levitating thousands of baubles, fairy lights, tinsel, charmed candles, and other decorations into place.

Hermione loved Christmas. As much as she wanted to say 'yes,' she knew she needed rest more than a morning of festivities. Shaking her head, she explained, "I think I'll go back to bed for a bit before breakfast."

Nodding, Hagrid agreed, "Yeh are still looking a might peaky. Want me ter take yeh ter the hospital wing?"

The offer was tempting, as awful as Hermione felt, but she didn't want to slow down the Groundskeepers' plans for his day any more than she already had.

"I'll be alright," she said, waving as she made her way up the first set of stairs. "Thanks for the ride!"

She made it to the hospital wing alright, though she was panting, legs quivering, by the time she plopped into the first available hospital bed. Madam Pomfrey came bustling out at the sound, clucking over her new patient and muttering under her breath that she didn't know what Professor McGonagall was playing at, leaving Hermione out there alone when there was more they could do to help.

Hermione closed her eyes, enjoying the doting care of the mediwitch. "Don't blame Professor McGonagall," she said. "It's my fault for being too stuck in my own head last night. It's not usually this bad."

Eyeing her quizzically, Madam Pomfrey continued about her work, refraining from making further comment as she dosed Hermione with potions and helped her into some pyjamas. Crawling under the covers, Hermione accepted the fact that she would be missing a day of classes due to the full moon for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts. She was a little bit frustrated with herself over it, but she knew that it was more than likely going to happen once in awhile, and she tried not to worry too much.

As her eyes were drifting closed, the hospital wing door cracked open and an exhausted Neville made his way towards Hermione. As bundled up, from head to toe, as he was, the skin that showed - namely his cheeks and nose - were bright red. Hermione wondered what had brought him outside at this hour. He nearly looked worse off than she did, and the tumult of thoughts tangling through her mind finally halted on one terrifying conclusion.

He knew.

Tears stung her eyes as she met his gaze, the emotions that were always this close to the surface this close to the full moon making his look of anxious concern too much to bear.

Instead of any of the accusations he expected to hear tumble out of his mouth, he hoarsely asked, "Are you alright?"

As worried as she'd been about their friendship of late, this proved to be too much for the young witch. Her lip trembled, and a few tears escaped. She wiped them with the sleeve of her pyjamas, shrugging weakly, not knowing what response to give.

Peeling off several layers, Neville discarded them at the foot of her bed, plopping into the nearest chair. His arrival brought Madam Pomfrey hurrying over again, this time to tut over Neville's nearly-frostbitten fingers and toes. She gave him a dose of _Pepper-Up_. His face got even redder by the moment as the potion worked its magic, steam coming out his ears as the liquid warmed him from head to toe.

"You're lucky there wasn't any permanent damage," Pomfrey scolded, eyeing Hermione as if to ask if the younger witch felt up to having company. Hermione nodded, smiling to give the mediwitch permission to go about her work.

They sat silently until they were alone once more, Neville anxiously fiddling with the fringe of his scarf. It looked as if he was trying to plait it, but his trembling fingers couldn't manage the task. It quickly became a knotted jumble of scarlet and gold yarn. He huffed in frustration, tossing the scarf back onto the foot of the hospital bed. Dropping his hands into his lap, his eyes finally met Hermione's again. They were filled with worry.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, and it was almost like her birthday all over again, yet this time, instead of withholding something _happy_ from her friend, taking away from him the opportunity to celebrate with her, she had only taken away the need to worry or to fear _her_ \- and what she became one night a month. Hermione laid back against the pillows, all strength seeping from her muscles at the mere thought of even trying to explain the logic of her secret-keeping to her best friend.

"It's alright if you don't want to be friends anymore," Hermione choked out, hating the words almost as much as she hated herself for uttering them. It wasn't true, of course. The thought of enduring life at school without Neville at her side was the furthest thing from tolerable, but she'd read enough books about ' _her kind_ ' in the Hogwarts library and knew the way purebloods saw werewolves. The books she'd found did not paint a kind picture of lycanthropes.

Hermione couldn't meet his gaze after that, fully expecting him to stand, pick up his things, and go back to Gryffindor tower or down to breakfast.

But he didn't. He stayed, stubbornly sitting in silence.

After a long, harrowing moment, he cautiously reached out and grabbed her hand. His skin was still a little cold, even after the _Pepper-Up Potion_ , against her fever-warmed skin, and the touch sent an involuntary shiver up her arm. He nearly pulled away, scared that he'd hurt her, but she strengthened her grip and held on.

The silence wasn't particularly comfortable after that, but they were both too exhausted and emotionally wrung-out to discuss the elephant - or rather, _wolf_ \- in the room. The touch of their hands clasped together was enough to calm them both down some, and Neville eventually rested his head upon his folded arms on Hermione's bed, never once releasing his hold on her.

Hermione's eyes were closed, breathing deep and even, just moments away from sleep, when Neville whispered, "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

A/N: Heyyyy! I know it's been a while, and thank you for being patient with me! The past few months have been filled with little sleep and sick kids, so writing hasn't been the top priority, but I definitely haven't abandoned this little story of mine! Your sweet words of encouragement keep me going, and I appreciate every single review and PM! You are truly the best. Speaking of which, this fic did not end up winning a Marauder Medal, but I was awarded Runner-Up for Best Up and Coming Author and Time Traveller's Disease won Best Short Story! Prongs and the Blue Fairy Potion also won Runner-Up for Best Prongs, so yay! My readers really are the best, and I love each and every one of you. Thank you for your support. It means a lot, especially when the words aren't coming easily. I'm hoping to have the Christmas chapter up by the holidays, so keep your fingers crossed for me.

Also, I went to post this and just realized this fic now has over 500 reviews! WHAT? Is this even real life? You guys are my favorite. For reals. Thank you.

Beta love to the greatest beta EVER, Mahawna. Love ya, girl!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Hermione's eyes ached when she finally decided to greet the day, but she peeled them open when she realized her hand felt unusually warm.

Neville was still there.

He was holding her hand as nonchalantly as any twelve-year-old boy could hold the hand of the girl who was his best friend.

And might one day become more.

Thoughts of such things were far from their minds, of course, as two pairs of brown eyes met for the briefest instant, both full of questions, before Hermione's gaze skittered away again. Her free hand busied itself with the edge of the blanket tucked neatly over her waist, fingers twitching as her thoughts tumbled over each other in a wild search to find something, anything, that she could say without sounding totally ridiculous, given their current situation.

As if of its own accord, her mouth opened and words fell out. "How did you find out?"

Neville was about to respond when Hermione spoke again, gaze still averted uncomfortably. "Not many people know, you see?" She started listing them off on her fingers. "My parents, obviously. Professor McGonagall." Raising a hesitant fourth finger, she added, "That probably means Professor Dumbledore also knows, though he's never spoken to me about it. I suspect a few other professors know, not to mention Hagrid. He always knows more about things than he should, and-"

"Hermione." Neville's voice was tinged with laughter, and that finally brought her gaze to his face.

Of all the responses she could have expected when one of her friends found out about her condition, this was the last one she would have imagined.

Laughing. He was actually laughing at her.

She smiled back, a bit unsure of herself but feeling gratitude for her best friend warm her heart as his soft chuckle quieted and he spoke again.

"You know all that time I was spending on my Herbology project?"

Hermione nodded, remembering several evenings when he'd declined her offer to join her by the fire in the Gryffindor common room to study after dinner, saying he had an important project to check on in the greenhouses. Now her curiosity was piqued. What had he really been up to?

Clearing his throat, Neville continued, "I was actually in the library, trying to figure out what was going on with you. Books were bloody rubbish, of course." He reddened at his coarse language but pushed on. "I ordered some more with some of the spending money Gran gave me at Diagon Alley ages ago. Anyway, I found a few things that were actually helpful, and then I started to worry about you. Sounds as if the transformation is usually horrid, and I couldn't imagine going through that alone."

Heaving a sigh, Hermione shook her head. "It isn't exactly enjoyable, but the transformation is over fairly quickly. And from the books I've read, I have it better than most." She suspected that it had something to do with the way she was raised by Muggles, with so little stigma behind the creature that she became once a month. Sure, there were horror movies and horrifyingly inaccurate werewolf romances that she couldn't even bring herself to finish, but no one feared the reality of werewolves the way they did in the magical community. She felt bad for anyone who had grown up with such prejudice against a disease that was not at all their fault and thought she might like to work in the Ministry of Magic one day to advocate for werewolf rights.

Continuing her explanation to Neville, she said, "At home, I had a place in the forest where I would be contained for the moon. I never had any problems, and I'm used to doing it alone. Once I came to school, Professor McGonagall said she had reason to believe Animagi could safely accompany werewolves on the night of the full moon. She offered her assistance and I accepted, since I was a bit nervous about how the wolf would react to being in an unfamiliar place. Things have been fine, but this was my first night on my own here at school, and it was a bit harder to get back up to the castle than I expected." Her voice trailed off, embarrassed at the memory of her restless night caused by her worries about this particular boy and the ensuing exhaustion that had made her accept a Christmas tree sleigh ride from Hagrid.

Neville looked intrigued. "McGonagall helped you? In her Animagus form?"

Hermione nodded. "Just until I thought I would be alright on my own."

Peering down at his intertwined fingers in his lap, Neville whispered, "Do you think I could do that?"

She was taken aback. She had never expected anyone to do anything so challenging-virtually impossible for a first year so new to magic to even dream of accomplishing within the foreseeable future. Yet here Neville was, offering to do just that.

Her chest hurt with the kindness and generosity of his offer.

She sniffled as quietly as possible, pretending there weren't tears in her eyes. "I think you could do anything you set your mind to, Neville," she told him, smiling and willing the tears to stay in check.

This conversation was already a lot for him to take in without her bursting into grateful hysterics.

His answering smile was timid and small and possibly the sweetest one she'd ever seen.

XxxX

Neville rapped more sharply than he'd meant to on the door to Professor McGonagall's office, jumping slightly at the expected-but still sharply Scottish-reply of "Enter!"

She looked slightly harassed when he pulled open the door. Instead of sitting at her desk where she usually accepted her student visitors, she was standing at the window, watching the ongoing Gryffindor quidditch practice. Only her profile was visible to him, her mouth turned down at the corner and her eyes were like a hawk's, trained on the distant house team down at the pitch. Neville found himself wondering if her spectacles had been charmed to allow her to see all that way. He wouldn't put it past his Head of House to have spectacles that doubled as omnioculars. McGonagall scoffed in disgust at whatever was happening outside the diamond-paned glass of her office window, startling Neville out of his musings and causing him to flinch, before abruptly spinning on her heel and marching to her desk, motioning for Neville to take a seat as she did the same.

Once she truly took in his rumpled appearance for the first time, her features softened. "I think I know what this is about," she informed him gently.

Neville clarified, "Hermione?"

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I'm quite impressed you've figured it out, young man. Not many your age would be able to recognise the signs."

"She's my friend!" Neville blustered. "I don't know how I could have missed it. I would have figured it out sooner, but all the books on werewolves in the library were absolute rubbish." His cheeks burned red, and he pulled at his wrinkled shirt as if he could iron them out by sheer willpower.

Minerva considered casting a wrinkle-removing charm his way to stop the boy's fidgeting, but she refrained. "What is it you'd like to know?" she asked. "I'm not sure what Hermione would be comfortable with me telling you-"

Neville cut her off with a shake of his head. "It's nothing like that, Professor. I've already spoken with Hermione. I was just wondering if...erm...you might teach me some more advanced transfiguration." He screwed up his face as he said the last few words.

McGonagall pursed her lips to hide her smile, her thin eyebrows arching in a mix of disbelief and delight. "And what 'more advanced transfiguration' might that be, young man?" she asked, tone kind but firm. There was no sense in dilly-dallying around his true request, that much was clear.

"I know it's something that's supposed to take years," Neville said, "but one of my mum's old journals said something about how she thought a few of the blokes in her year at school had figured out the Animagus transfiguration on their own. I know I'm no Hermione," McGonagall chuckled a bit at that, "but I want to be able to help her in any way I can."

"The Animagus transformation is highly technical and dangerous magic, Mr Longbottom, as I'm sure you're aware."

Neville nodded, not missing the way she opted not to respond to his claim that there may have been underage, unregistered Animagi housed in Gryffindor Tower some years before. Either she knew about it and chose to say nothing, or it was news to her and she didn't want to show her surprise.

McGonagall continued, "What you're seeking to undertake would require more time spent in the Transfiguration classroom and many more hours of reading, young man." Her gaze held Neville to the seat of the burgundy velvet chair he sat on, as if determining whether he would make a worthy apprentice.

He was quite sure that he didn't measure up to the task. But he'd come this far. That wasn't going to stop him.

"I'm quite determined, ma'am," he proclaimed, squaring his shoulders.

"Very well," she replied. "Our lessons start tomorrow after dinner. I will have the necessary books sent to your dormitory." Squaring her own tartan-clad shoulders, she reminded him, "This task requires the utmost care and secrecy, Mr Longbottom." He nodded, and she continued, "I expect your housemates and grandmother will not be hearing of this until the proper time? This is Hermione's secret to share, not yours, and I don't want the rest of your friends trying to turn themselves into who-knows-what without proper supervision. While working to achieve a proper Animagus form is something to be proud of, it's best not to go blathering on about it to every person one comes across, am I understood? The books are to be read in private and kept out of sight, and our lessons will be private. If necessary, you may claim that you are serving some of the detentions given to you by Professor Snape under my watchful eye."

Neville's face flamed again, as the lie burned with truth.

"I think that should be enough to convince them," she said, not unkindly.

It was widely known that the head of Slytherin House hated Neville almost as much as he hated some of the boys' friends. To say Professor Snape was unkind to Neville was a gross understatement. The man bullied the boy. And Neville suffered for it. His potions were never very good, even with Hermione's help.

When Neville left Professor McGonagall's office, he felt bigger and brighter and somehow like a better friend than he had when he entered.

McGonagall couldn't help the happy smile that graced her face as she turned back to watch the quidditch practice outside her window once more, just enough to see a tiny speck of gold disappear into the hand of one young Mr Harry Potter.

"Your parents would be proud," she whispered into the glass of the window. "Of both of you."

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys! SO sorry about the long wait. Life has been ridiculously busy, and my muse has been pretty much nonexistent. But! I had some inspiration a little while back and thought this might make a lovely little Christmas gift for my wonderful readers. Thank you for continuing to love and support my stories even though updates are few and far between at the moment. The reviews and messages you've sent telling me to take my time but letting me know you'd love to see more make me smile every time. I'm glad you love this story as much as I do! I have no intention of abandoning TLL, but it may be a while before updates come more regularly again. This chapter was not edited by my beta, as she is just as busy as I am, so all errors are my own. I hope you enjoyed this update! I have part of the next chapter written and am hoping to get it posted soon. Merry Christmas!


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